#no longer your soldier or anyone's. his own. maybe even in charge of a large group of people in need of someone to follow

[miraluking-respectfully]

felix being referred to more or less exclusively as "your soldier" in-game speaks to how little the writers put into his character beyond his noggin full of sith secrets & his relationship with the consular; still, i do find it kind of sweet and funny, in a way. he's not a republic soldier, not even your personal bodyguard; he's your soldier. the consular is a small nation-state in and of herself

[biggest-stupidhead]

AN: Here’s part 2 of my nurse reader and Levi request! It recently came to my attention that I was lowkey confused, I realize that you guys were asking for part 2 to my solider Levi and princess reader but I’ve been working on this one instead😂😂 So I’ll try and get to that other one soon. 

ALSO 139 SPOILERS 

Part 1

Summary: Levi’s dreams are coming true

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: mentions of scarring, blood, struggling to walk, kissing, angst

_______

The first few weeks were rough, he struggled to do the most mundane tasks, his fingers shook as he gripped a pen, his breathing was labored when he climbed stairs. He hated every second of it, he knew that this was part of being injured and recovering, but still, he felt weak and exposed. He also knew that it was unlikely that he would ever be the same as he was before his accident, this didn’t bother him too much. However, the thought of you only knew him as a frail wounded soldier rubbed him the wrong way. 

He used this as motivation to better his condition, with the knowledge that he would not function the same as before. He quickly found out that holding a pen in his right hand was now much too difficult, so he began practicing with his left instead. He also realized that being in a wheelchair was not for him. He hated being pushed by anyone, mainly because Gabi once lost control and sent him rolling down a busy street. So he began to use a cane or crutch, he also found out that he tired much faster using this method. But he much preferred it to the chair. 

After only three months of being discharged, Onyankopon had sniffed out an affordable space to open a modest cafe. The space also had a short set of stairs that led to a one-bedroom apartment above, which originally deterred Onyankopon from investing due to Levi’s state. But Levi had insisted that he would manage, so on a gloomy Thursday afternoon, they signed the papers and bought the place. Gabi and Flaco had been ecstatic to help decorate the space, scouring antique shops and pawn shops for the best (and cheapest) pieces of furniture. 

Levi had watched the pair carry in the first table, a round wooden piece fit for two along with mismatched chairs to go along with it. At first, Levi disliked the way the furniture clashed, but he soon grew to like it. As the kids slowly carried in more each week the space began to feel homier. The kitchen in the back was teeming with tins of tea, recipes that Onyankopon swore by were tacked up on bulletin boards. Each weekend Onyankopon would bring the kids back with armloads of ingredients to test out the recipes he had been gathering while Levi had been in the hospital. 

Soon they had perfected a menu, with croissants that were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, sticky-sweet cinnamon rolls, and lemon tarts. Levi had never been a fan of sweets, but he knew that most people were, so each weekend they slaved over the stoves and made huge messes of flour and sugar. After two months the cafe was rather put together, tables and chairs of all sorts spread about the room in an inviting pattern. A chalkboard menu that was slowly expanding was sprawled out over the main counter, which was being stocked with pastries. 

Onyankopon had brought in a box full of glassware that he had found on the side of the street, Levi had sneered at him as he watched him carefully wash them. 

“What are you planning to do with those?” Levi asked as Onyankopon scrubbed the dust off of the glass. 

“We can use them as centerpieces. Maybe we could cut some flowers from that field?” He said as he placed the glass vases and cups on the drying rack. 

“I suppose,” Levi grumbled, happy that he hadn’t planned on using them as cups. 

Finally, the day came when the menu was rounded enough and the furniture polished to open the shop. Levi hated to admit his nerves, but the truth was that his stomach was in knots and his heart was hammering out of his chest as he flipped the wooden sign on the door from closed to open. 

Gabi had whooped and hollered, Falco had clapped ecstatically and Onyankopon popped open a bottle of champagne. Levi had given them the slightest of smiles as the group retreated behind the counter to wait for someone to wander in. Levi sat back on a stool that Falco had thrifted for behind the counter, his cane resting against his knee as he watched the door with a steady gaze. 

“Can I be in charge of the pastries?” Gabi pleaded, big brown eyes wide as she clasped her hands together. Onyankopon shot a sideways look to Levi who inhaled sharply. 

“As long as you don’t spit in the food.” Levi relented and Gabi leaped into the air in her excitement before jogging back into the kitchen to take stock. 

“Falco you can carry food out.” Onyankopon offered and Falco nodded a gleam of determination in his golden eyes. 

“I’ll run the register and Levi you can brew the tea.” Onyankopon looked pleased with himself after assigning the roles and Levi shrugged in indifference. The minutes ticked by and the door remained shut, the wide windows let the warm morning sun seep into the room, yet it carried no joy. Or at least it didn’t summon any deep feelings from within Levi. Just when Levi was about to give up and go brew himself his own tea before calling it a day, the door opened, the bell tinkling softly. 

His mouth fell open when he saw you, in your plain clothes, a pair of dark dress pants and a silk dress shirt. Your purse was slung over your shoulder and in your hands was a bright bouquet of flowers. You pushed some stray strands of hair off of your face as you stepped into the cafe. 

“(Y/n)! You made it!” Falco rushed around the counter and took your hand in his to lead you to the counter. You laughed warmly and allowed the young boy to drag you across the room. 

“You’re the first person to come in.” Onyankopon mused softly as he stood behind the register, hands placed firmly on the counter. Your eyes widened in surprise before another warm grin passes placidly across your features. 

“I am?” You asked, leaning on the counter and throwing a playful glance at Levi who was half hiding behind Onyankopon. 

“It’s true.” Gabi groaned dramatically fanning her face, she had been fidgeting anxiously in the back for the past hour eager to serve guests. 

“What can I get the good nurse?” Onyankopon steered the conversation back to business as usual. 

“Ah, I’d love a cup of camomile and hmm maybe one of those lemon tarts.” You hummed, leaning over to examine the pastries that had been set on display in the glass containers. 

“Excellent choice, that’ll be seven pounds.” Onyankopon slid the key into the keyhole in the register and the old thing sprang open, spilling some change. He chuckled as he awkwardly collected the spare change. 

“Takes a gentle hand.” He explained as you smiled at him with the money in hand. Levi sighed and reached around Onyankopon to take the money as the larger man squatted down to retrieve the stubborn coins. 

“Congratulations Captain, you’ve made this place your own.” You said, slipping the money into his hands, the pads of your fingertips brushing his calloused palm. 

“Thank you, nurse (L/n).” He mumbled, trying in vain to fight off the butterflies swarming in his stomach. 

“You’re so very welcome.” You watched as the rag-tag bunch began to hustle around the kitchen, Levi limped to the stove and began to boil the water in the kettle, Gabi was pulling on a pair of gloves before she began to inspect the pastries, looking for the best one. Falco gestured for you to follow him to that round table at the front of the store, right by the large window. You covered your mouth to hide an affectionate grin as he pulled the chair out for you. You sat and thanked him as you made yourself comfortable. 

“I’ll bring your food to you miss.” He even did a bow which was when you could no longer hide your amusement. 

“Falco, too much.” Onyankopon was also laughing behind the counter as the young boy scurried back to grab your pastry, which Gabi had carefully chosen just for you. Levi was now steeping the leaves in one of the mismatched sets of china that they had collected. Once the tea was steeped to perfection he set it on the tray with the pastry and Falco carefully picked it up, using both hands. 

He set the steaming plates in front of you and you thanked him once more. You felt a bit awkward as the group watched with expectant eyes as you took the first bite. Your eyes lit up, it was just the perfect mixture of sweet and sour, the breading crumbling on your tongue. 

You nodded and held a thumbs up which made Gabi clap her hands and squeal. Falco laughed and shook her shoulder, a giddy gleam in his eyes. Levi bit back another smile, not eager to let you pull them from his lips so easily. A few moments after you had begun to eat, the door tinkled open again, this time it was an older couple. They ordered and sat down near you, murmuring about the decor and such. As the morning wore on, more people began to wander into the shop, families and starry-eyed couples alike. You sat at your table, a small amount of paperwork from the hospital spread across the tabletop. You worked well into the afternoon, not necessarily because you needed to but because you wanted to catch Levi and check in on him. 

You got your chance when the crowd ebbed and the orders slowed. The shop was once more empty and you could see the way that Levi limped between the sink and the stove. You gathered your courage and stood from your spot, leaving your purse and papers behind. Onyankopon was helping the kids in the back as they prepped for the pastries for tomorrow. 

“I’ll dry if you wash.” You offered and Levi shot you a look over his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I’ve been taking up that table all day, let me earn my keep.” You teased, carefully stepping behind the counter and into the kitchen. He did not oppose as you sidled up beside him and began to towel dry the dishes he had already scrubbed clean. You worked like this for a few minutes in silence, the sound of dishes and sloshing of water filling the air between you. 

“You seem to have healed well.” You commented as you accepted another clean plate. 

“Hm.” He hummed, eyes trained on his task. You noted that he no longer wore bandages on his hand where his fingers had once been. 

“How’s your knee?” You asked and he bristled a bit. 

“....it’s fine.” He said after a slight pause. 

“I can look at it if you’d like.” You offered and he inhaled slowly before releasing his breath in one long exhale. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Then let me look at your fingers, if you are doing dishes it’s likely to get infected.” You were a tad embarrassed to admit that you simply wanted to feel his skin against yours once more. But luckily Levi felt the same. He paused his work and grabbed a towel to dry his hands off before slowly extending them to you. You accepted them and ran your fingers over the callouses that decorated his palms before pulling his hand closer to your face to get a good look at the nubs where his fingers once were. 

Just as you had thought, they were fully healed with puckering pink flesh from where stitches had once been. 

“They look well, you should be fine, just...be mindful of how much time you spend washing the dishes.” You hummed, turning his hand over in yours to examine the back of it, old and new scars littered the expanse of his hands and up to his forearm.

“Okay.” His words were breathy and a bit choked. You snuck a glance up at his face and smiled sheepishly at him as you released his hand, which fell slowly back to his side. His cheeks were a soft pink, hints of a blush from the heat of your touch alone. 

“I would suggest looking into some gloves.” You advised and he rolled his eyes. 

“How am I supposed to wear gloves without my fingers?” He asked, holding his hand up as if to emphasize the loss. 

“You seem to have adapted well, I’m sure you can figure something out.” You assured him with a nudge to his side before you fell back into the easy rhythm of drying the dishes. 

____

You fell into a routine, stopping by when the cafe first opened to grab a cup of tea before your shift. Then you would go off to work and return later that afternoon to help Levi clean up. One rainy day you came in an hour later than usual, your scrubs soaked as you had forgotten an umbrella. Onyankopon and the kids had left earlier that week to go get the other cadets from Paradis, leaving Levi to tend to the shop alone. 

As you entered you flipped the sign to closed and then wrung your sopping wet hair. Levi stood behind the counter, watching you with his one steel eye. 

“What took you so long?” He asked before turning to do the dishes. You scoffed and looked back out at the window, the rain was pelting down mercilessly against the glass. But you said nothing, having learned long ago that arguing with him was pointless. 

“What have you got for me?” You asked instead wanting to throw yourself into the work he had for you. He put you to work in the kitchen, taking stock and sweeping the floors until you thought that you would collapse. It wasn’t that the work that was taxing, but the work on top of the hours you had already clocked in on your feet at the hospital. 

When he was pleased with your cleaning he waved you off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Your clothes were still wet, as you watched him thumb through his earnings of the day in the register. You now knew a fraction of what he had put those cadets through all those years ago. 

“Levi?” You tested, his name falling sweetly from your lips. He turned slowly, pausing his counting to give you his full attention. 

“What is it?” He asked, placing the change back into the register. 

“How would you like to get some dinner?” You offered with a shy smile. His eyes widened and he whipped around to shut the register. 

“Only if you’re buying.” 

____

So now you sat across the table from him, your leg bouncing anxiously under the table inside the warm tavern. He seemed much less anxious, hands folded in front of him and his gaze void of any particular emotion. 

“So...you come here often?” You tried to start the conversation, for the first time finding it difficult. 

“No actually, I despise these places.” He answered literally and you nearly blanched, worried that you may have upset him or offended him in some way by bringing him here. 

“What? We don’t have to stay then we can-” You were reaching for your purse but he held up a hand to stop you. 

“It’s fine.” He assured you and you relaxed back into your seat. 

“Why do you hate these places?” You asked out of curiosity. 

“Not a fan of drunk men and shitty tavern food.” He shrugged indifferently. If he had been feeling braver he would have told you that it reminded him of his childhood and his mean drunk uncle. 

“Ah, I see.” Your shoulders slumped and you cleared your throat to fill the silence. 

“I don’t usually come to bars often either. Can’t trust me around beer.” You joked but Levi arched a thin brow. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Oh, my dad was a drunk and they say that it runs in the family. So I’ll never touch the stuff.” You shrugged and Levi was caught off guard with your honesty. He only hummed in response. Not long after that, the food arrived and the two of you ate in near silence, the sounds of forks scraping plates and wine sloshing in glasses. You paid for dinner and the two of you slowly made your way back down the street, which was slick with rainwater. You eyed Levi’s arm a bit longingly, wanting to feel his warmth pressed against you. You rubbed your biceps in an attempt to get the message across but he seemed clueless still. So you sighed and decided to take yet another risk, in one swift motion you slid your arm through his and he went rigid. His steps faltered and you looked over at him with a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. 

“Is...this alright?” you asked and he nodded tensely before resuming his pace. You were grateful that his apartment was so close to the tavern, as it began to pour once more. But of course, you could not run because you feared that he would injure himself, so the two of you simply picked up your pace. Levi held the door for you and the two of you stumbled into the dark cafe, the tables and chairs looked almost like skeletons as you weaved your way through them to the back set of stairs. 

“You can stay if you’d like.” he offered, a glimmer of uncertainty flashing over his features, clearly he was treading just as lightly as you were. 

“I’d like that very much.” You grinned and the two of you climbed the stairs to his small apartment. The floorplan was open, the kitchen and living room were all in one space. The furniture was also mismatched here, he set about lighting candles even though you knew that the building had electricity. You wondered if it was a force of habit, all of his years on that island with no electricity, or if it was an attempt to set the mood. You said nothing all the same as the candles set the room aglow in warm light. 

“It’s nice,” you commented and Levi hummed in agreement. 

“It’s no barracks.” He said as he shook the match, a small trail of smoke curling up from his fingertips. 

“Do you miss the military?” You asked as you slipped out of your shoes. He paused, a thoughtful look passing over his face as he pondered your question. 

“At times, there are things that I miss. But no, I wouldn’t go back.” he shook his head, damp locks of raven hair falling in curtains over his brow. 

“I can imagine.” You agreed as he slipped out of his coat and hung it on the coat rack, you did the same and he gestured for you to follow him to his room. 

“I have some dry clothes you can borrow.” He said as he sifted through his drawers, pulling out a simple cotton shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. He held them out to you and you accepted them with a smile. You noted that the clothes were larger than the ones that he pulled out and you wondered who they belonged to. 

“Whose clothes are these?” you asked out of curiosity and a pained look crossed his face. But you wondered if you had imagined it because of how quickly his features reset into his stoic mien. 

“An old friend.” That was all he said before leaving you to change. You pulled the clothes on slowly and carefully knowing that these are likely one of the last things he had that belonged to his friend. Once you were done you stepped out of the room to find Levi already changed and boiling a kettle over his small stove. The shirt hung loosely off of your frame and you pulled the collar up gently as you crossed the room to stand by his side. 

“Whatcha making?” You asked softly as he shot you a brief glance over his shoulder. 

“Tea.” He said bluntly as he reached up into the cabinets and pulled out two mugs. You hummed and moved to take a seat at the modest table that was pressed against the back of his couch. 

“Sounds good.” You said as you slipped into the seat, watching as he moved around his space. You noted the way his cane carried the majority of his weight, the way his fingers trembled as he poured the water to steep the tea leaves. You moved to get up and help him, but decided against it, reminding yourself that he was independent and could do these tasks on his own. Sure enough Levi finished the tea and carried the two cups over to you and placed them gently down on the table. 

You thanked him quietly and blew a puff of air over the surface of the green tea, sending ripples through the liquid. He watched you with unreadable features, hands crossed on the table and his cane resting against his thigh. 

“Tell me of your home.” You asked, daring a look over the rim of your cup. He inhaled and a far away look crossed his face as he thought of an appropriate response. 

“As I knew it or as it is now?” He mumbled as he brought his own cup to his lips. 

“Whichever you prefer.” 

“Hm.” He hummed as he let the hot liquid sit in his mouth hoping to buy himself more time. 

“Either way it was shitty.” He said after a few moments of silence. You set your cup down and gave him your full attention. 

“We never had much, and I can’t say that it was a happy life.” He said, sneaking a glance at you to guage your reaction. 

“I figured as much.” You commented and he shrugged. 

“There isn’t much left of the landscape after the rumbling, but that’s everywhere now.” He grumbled, beginning to lose himself in his own memories. 

“There used to be open fields and massive trees inside of the walls but…” He winced, flashes of blood and gnashing titan teeth, campfires, the heavy breathing of horses, explosions of thunder spears followed by the tangy metallic scent of blood. 

��Levi?” Your voice was soft and filled with concern, he snapped out of his reverie, his fists clenched around his cup. 

“Sorry.” He choked out, his tongue feeling fat and his mouth dry. 

“It’s alright, I shouldn’t have asked.” You waved your hands and quickly took a sip of your tea. 

“No, it’s not your fault.” He dismissed you, trying to calm the racing of his heart. 

“I’m sure that you’re tired, I’ll see myself out.” You began to scramble, reaching for your things and pushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Levi wasn’t sure why, but he felt an urgent need to reach out and grab you. Before he could dismiss the sense, his hand had already shot out and caught your wrist. 

You looked back at him with wide eyes, not moving a muscle. He stayed still as well, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. If he was hurting you, you showed no sign. 

“Don’t….it’s storming.” He said stupidly, as he stood keeping a hold on your wrist. Once he was on his feet he took a step towards you and his hand slipped down to intertwine his fingers with your own. 

“O-Okay.” You squeezed his fingers and he returned the gesture, eyes blank although they darted between your eyes and lips every few seconds. You took a step closer so that the tips of your feet touched his, your breaths mingling together. Finally his eyes settled on your lips and you unconsciously licked them as you wondered what he would taste like. Green tea no doubt, just as bitter and tangy as his personality seemed to be. 

You let out a shaky breath as he reached out, the back of his hand brushing that pesky piece of hair off of your cheek. He hesitated but gently grasped your face in his calloused palm, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You carefully broke free of his grasp on your hand so you could smooth down the fabric of his shirt above his heart. 

He swallowed thickly before lifting his chin, eyes trained on your lips. You tilted your head and met him the rest of the way, your lips slotting together perfectly. His other hand came to rest on the other side of your face, and you whimpered. You opened your mouth wider, your tongue slipping past his lips to taste him. He did taste like green tea after all, bitter and overwhelming. You couldn’t get enough, your hands slipping up the column of his throat to find the shaven underside of his hair. 

To your surprise he pulled away with a grunt, grey eyes wide and surprised. You looked back just as shocked but then you smiled. He blinked at you for a moment before pulling away completely and turning his back to you and running a hand through his locks. 

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.” He apologized and you shook your head. 

“I actually quite liked it. You aren’t my patient anymore Levi.” He remained silent, his back turned to you in shame. 

“You’re not even a Captian anymore, you’re just a man.” You assured him and he turned to look at you now, eyes filled with a certain grief you couldn’t quite place. 

“Is that how you see me then?” His voice was flat and you couldn’t tell if he was offended or pleased with the response. 

“No, I see you as a good man, who has been hurt one too many times. Someone who needs a….companion.” You settled and he finally faced you once more. 

“I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He grunted, steadying himself on the table. 

“It’s okay Levi, I-I like you.” You felt like you were tripping over yourself to assure him that he was not crossing any lines. 

“....” He remained silent, those sad grey eyes trained on your face as your chest heaved, panic quickly raising. 

“I promise you I’m fine. I’ve actually been wanting to kiss you for some time now.” You sheepishly admitted, rubbing the side of your arm. 

“I know.” He groaned his hands coming to hide his eyes and you felt even more distressed, you should’ve known better. 

“Look, Levi I want to be with you, and if you want the same then we can be. You don’t have to-” 

“Damn it (Y/n) I want to, but I don’t” He let out another frustrated grunt before his fist came down hard on the table, the cups rattling loudly at the disturbance. 

“I don’t want you to be chained to someone like me.” He admitted, eyes averted. 

“You don’t have to feel that way, I’m choosing you.” 

“Promise?” His eyes finally met yours and you nodded curtly, a look of determination and confidence plastered to your face. 

“Promise.” You assured him, sitting back down at the table to show that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“And if you bother me too much then I’ll leave.” You teased, but he seemed to take it literally, sinking back into his own seat and nodding in understanding. 

“That’s good.” He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. 

“I really should go home, think about this and we’ll talk tomorrow.” You stood, leaning over the table to peck a kiss to his lips. He nodded and watched with tired eyes as you left his apartment. 

[jostenneil]

would you say more on how the writers are totally missing why bruce adopted his kids? im interested in hearing your commentary i wanna know how bad the new writing fucks up

a lot of it is to me a notable product of the slowly evolving idea that bruce is waging a war on crime for which he needs to employ soldiers. in the pursuit of that idea, and in the pursuit of long-form narrative arcs where villains are no-longer relegated to the purpose of one-off appearances, writers steadily forget that what made bruce into a hero first was his empathy. he lost his parents at a very young age and thus decided that he never wanted to see anyone else become a victim the way he became one, and this ideology extended to his relationships with the children he adopted. he didn't want them to be alone with all of this pent-up rage and anguish inside and with no healthy outlet to channel those emotions into. he wanted to give them the safe haven and support that he didn't have growing up. and obv, he wasn't always good at providing that. growing up the way he did left him with a lot of communication issues that sometimes threw wedges in those parental relationships. i think esp with immediate pre-crisis bruce and dick, we got to see a good example of that. bruce simultaneously wanted dick to have everything that he could give him, like an education, but he also knew he had to try to respect that dick's personal wishes would be different. there was some rockiness between them, and sometimes bruce inadvertently took charge before dick reminded him of his own agency, but it wasn't unsalvageable to me. it just felt like standard parent-child relationship growing pains. where i think things inevitably took a turn for the worst in terms of bruce portrayals was actually with jason. like obv we have the frank miller stuff to blame, but what i think jason dying did was allow for the "robin existing is child abuse" idea to permeate bc that was literally the reason starlin gave for orchestrating his death, and writers were content to allow that reasoning to extend to portrayals thereafter, which obv resulted in whatever we got going on with leslie and stephanie in war games/crimes. it's really odd to me though that writers allowed that idea to permeate bc, to me at least, what made jason's death special (and why i personally think he should have been the only one to die) is that he was the one robin that bruce actually "recruited". every other robin or batgirl pushed their way into the field of their own volition (ig you could maybe argue that bruce recruited cass, but personally i would argue against bc she had already been trained at length by her father and she was already going out of her way to save people before bruce acknowledged her wish to help at large). so like, as much as i hate that he died, i think it also kinda resonated in an interesting way, esp with a lot of bruce's closed-off behavior in the nineties. he felt guilt-ridden over what he'd allowed to happen, he grew more willing to shoulder burdens entirely on his own, it was hard to convince him to let new people into the game, etc etc. that progression of him becoming a stricter, darker character and it being a result of jason dying made sense. what doesn't make sense is to act like bruce was always that scathing, or to peddle the idea that he only ever adopted children to recruit them as child soldiers when the whole point of jason dying was to emphasize that he was the One robin bruce recruited and it resulted in such tragedy, which bruce thereafter never wanted to repeat. and not only does that latter part damage him as a character over time, it also damages the robins and batgirls bc it robs them of their own agency with regards to heroism. none of the robins and batgirls aside from jason needed bruce to ask them to join his crusade. they joined the cause of their own volition and at times even went against his wishes in pursuit of the cause. to act like bruce has always worked to employ child soldiers directly jeopardizes so many of their origin stories as heroes bc now heroism is no longer something they sought to pursue on their own first. it becomes something that bruce is responsible for, and in the process it obscures the fact that his relationships with them were built on empathy first, not a commitment to a cause

[liddolwhynot2000]

Hey I would like to make a request for a soft yandere Levi x reader Levi finally gets to retire and open up his own teahouse and he starts to have feelings for reader who works for him, some fluff please and thank you 🙂 and on the side note I bet Levi is into bondage

Oohh yandere time. I hope you enjoy!

(also yes I think so too. Probably a very mild version of bondage tho.)

___________________________________

Envision

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Summary: Humanity's strongest soldier was destined to spend the rest of his life alone--but then he met you.

____________________________________

Pairings: Levi/Reader

Genre: not so soft Yandere, Levi falls in love, no angst

____________________________________

Retirement had always been a foreign concept to Levi. He had figured that it was one of those things he could only dream about. After all, being in the survey corps was the equivalent to signing up for an untimely death. As far as he was concerned, his end would occur in the mouth of some titan. It was a death he had made peace with.

However, some sort of fate had intervened and before he knew it, he had recieved the retirement he had never been courageous enough to voice out.

He had opened his own tea shop.

It hadn't been easy, of course. Initially the government hadn't been willing to give him much beyond a certain amount of money every month. But once queen Historia had recovered from giving birth to Princess Ymir, they had changed their tune quickly.

The queen had awarded his years of service with a plot of land and a fairly large house. There was also a monthly payment of more money then he had ever seen in his life. The house had needed some improvements. But Levi was in relatively good shape, so he fixed whatever needed to be fixed with his own hands.

He rather enjoyed the laborious task. But what he was more thrilled by was the wholesome outcome.

His tea shop had a nice, modest corner in the city. And much to his delight, it was always hustling and bustling. Many flocked to it, initially out of interest of seeing Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Most returned once they realized that the tea was amazing.

The house was divided into two parts, with the lower floor consisting of the cafe and the upper floor was where Levi lived. There was a plot of land that he owned, in the more rural areas, where he had paid some farmers to grow tea leaves and certain fruits and vegetables for his shop.

It had taken two years of hard work but his venture had paid off. His very own tea shop had been established and was making plenty of profits.

Levi no longer had to fight titans, or watch his cormades die in the battlefield. His life now consisted of a nine to five job, like most civillians. And he couldn't be happier about it.

Meeting you only amplified that happiness.

____________________________________

Levi had recruited his staff in a far more different manner then others would. For one, they were all former misfits. Three teen boys and two teen girls--who had grown up just like him, stealing to survive. Levi liked to think it was a way of paying forward what Kenny had done for him- if the man hadn't met him when he had, Levi would have died sitting next to his mother's corpse.

After he had settled them all into their jobs, he hadn't seen any need to recruit anymore people. They were running the shop just fine, and all Levi needed to was supervise a little.

Then you came into the picture.

You were so...delicate. Even shorter then him. Levi privately admitted to you being quite the beauty, with your sweet face and gentle smile. Your clothes were baggy, hiding a figure he often found himself wondering about.

He had thought that you were younger, maybe 18. But you had informed him you were actually 28. You had been a chef at the palace, but due to personal reasons, you had quit and desperately needed a job.

Levi had known he didn't actually need a chef, his shop was running just fine with the one he already had. But, he was so starstruck by you, so confused by what he was feeling, that he had ended up hiring you anyways.

You were rather timid- not really making eye contact with anyone, keeping your head down as you worked. You didn't bother making friends with the others, the age gap making it awkward for you. But you ended up making friends with him.

It had started out small, and Levi admitted, because of him. He had left you in peace for the first two weeks, but he was so inexplicably drawn to you, that he had to interact with you. So he ordered you to make him tea.

It didn't take you too long to understand how he preferred his tea, and within weeks, you were bringing him tea everyday, without even being ordered. It was made just the way liked it.

At the start, he tried to contend himself with brief conversations, often restricted by his inability to ask you to sit down and drink tea with him. Once he learned you were quite the cook, he made it a point to show his preference for your cooking.

You had been so grateful to get a job from him, even though you had known he didn't need to hire you and was still paying you quite generously. You immediately took the bait and began bringing him meals in the afternoon.

It was only when Levi gruffly ordered you to bring your lunch with his that you started to eat with him.

And thus began his friendship with you.

____________________________________

Growing up in the underground, the notion of love had never been taught to Levi. The most genuine warmth he had ever experienced was his beloved mother. He struggled to remember her now, time having messed with his memories. But he knew that the most he had ever felt loved was with her.

His mother's lullaby, its lyrics long forgotten in his youth, was something he sorely missed. Her embrace was something he had longed for on his worst days, but he had forced himself to accept that it would be a long time till he would ever see her again.

He had also accepted that he would never have someone in his life who cherished him the way she had. Not even as lover.

When it came to the romance department, Levi hadn't ever gotten into a relationship. Sure, there had been offers, but he had never indulged himself. He had turned down countless love confessions, feeling rather uncomfortable. Maybe it was that no one really knew him, or it was just that he wasn't interested at all. He had even thought of himself as incapable of feeling love again--the way he had let people into his heart, even if just as friends, only for them to die. It had left him cold to the core and unwilling to even entertain the idea of friendship, let alone romance.

Humanity's strongest soldier was destined to spend the rest of his life alone--but then he met you.

You and your soft presence, making him feel things he hadn't ever felt before. You made him feel warm, but different then the way his mother had. Often times, you left him feeling out of breath and with his heart beating erratically.

It had started out so small, hardly noticeable ot even himself. But one day, you had smiled at him, Levi recalled fondly, and it had made him want to smile back.

Things had only spiralled out of his control afterwards. There were days he would get so overhwlemed by his strangely strong emotions for you, that he would avoid going into work. Only to find himself missing you.

The days he didn't cowardly hide away, he found himself basking in your presence. You weren't some chatterbox, finding the silence to be just as soothing as he did. It was what made the two of you mesh so well.

It didn't take him long to grow out of his phase of uncertainty, Levi had a good idea of what he was feeling. But he wanted to see more of you, know more about you, so he could make a proper decision. But just watching you was driving him crazy.

The way you tucked your hair in behind your ear as you worked, it made him wish he could do it for you. He was sure your blush would be adorable.

The sweet way you giggled at his horrible jokes, it made the darker part of him long for you to reserve that laughter just for him. It had actually made him go out of his way to ensure that your interaction with males was limited. The ugly, jealous part of him couldn't tolerate anyone so much as looking at you.

How tired you got while working hours and hours end- it made him wish he could just lessen your work to nothing. The possessive part of him insisted that you didn't need to work for anyone else. That you should only be cooking for him. Levi often told himself, trying to stay in control, that he would make it so soon enough.

Your delight when you were around little children, you often gave them discounted desserts. It made his traitorous mind imagine little kids that looked exactly like you.

His feelings for you had grown exponentially-his initial curiousity about you hadn't been sated by any means. In fact, he thought about you more each day that went by. His mind had begun to conjure up a future for the two of you.

It was a future where he could see himself waking up to you every morning, and ending his day with you in his arms.

A future, Levi thought to himself, he was determined to turn into his reality.

Even though he could tell you didnt quite feel the same. But time could change feelings right?

____________________________________

If there was anyone on the Island of Paradise that could get away with murder, it would be Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Even in his retirement, the military knew better then to press charges against him. Or even say out loud that he had committed the crime.

On a rainy day, Levi's staff watched him walk out of the tea shop, cloak in hand, a knife hidden in his boot. He had stormed out, with his eyes screaming murder, and no one had enough courage to stand in his way, let alone ask him anything.

He would come back the next day, looking calm. His staff, unfazed by the blood stains on his clothes, had carried on with their work. They knew better then to ask.

You, on the other hand, did not. You didn't have the same childhood they had, for their lives had been riddled with crime and unfairness. You were soft- innocent. And so, so concerned about him.

You checked him for wounds, fussing over him, much to his delight. You had no idea that every hiss of pain was absolutely false, he hadn't sustained a single scratch. But for the sake of keeping your attention, he would keep at his acting.

And besides, the entire reason he had gone out was to fight for you. You had, while sobbing, told him the reason you quit your previous job-a scummy noble, Travis Wills, had been trying to force you to marry him. Levi hadn't been able to keep his rage to himself, and in his mind, rightfully so. The man's body would never be found.

He would never tell you, of course, in fear that you would be scared of him. It would remain one of his secrets.

He would love and cherish you beyond anything. You would only ever see your gentle, soon to be ex Boss, as your lover who could do no wrong.

You would never meet the monster in him.

At least, he hoped you wouldn't.

____________________________________

A/N: Heyooo. This is smaller then usual and I don't even know if I tackled yandere Levi well! Do tell if y'all liked it. Till next time ⭐ also asks are open please ask for some headcannons I feel like writing some.

[ffxiv-angora]

Day 30: Abstracted

The final prompt ;__; It's a long boi too

Small TW: This takes place during the battle at Carteneau so there's violence, death, etc etc.

Tagging @caspianking since I stole Eli for this one lol

The sky was on fire. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Nothing she’d even imagined to be possible. Dalamud was falling. The very ground shook underfoot with every explosion and as soldiers charged forward into the chaos. It was loud. Too loud. The mix of cannon fire, magic, and screams was overwhelming. Angora could do nothing but stand with her feet firmly planted to the ground with her ears pinned flat against her head and her tail wrapped around one leg.

Someone gives her hand a squeeze, causing her to finally pull her eyes from the carnage happening in front of her. She blinks, looking up to the viera next to her. Eli. Her first and only friend. He gave her one of those goofy, crooked smiles of his just like always. But even that smile couldn’t hide the fear that was clear in his eyes that mirrored her own.

“Don’t worry, Kitty cat!” he shouted, lifting his gunblade to rest it on his shoulder. “Just remember the plan! We’ll be okay!”

That gods forsaken nickname earns him a sour look, but Angora nods and gives his hand a squeeze in return. That’s right. They’d made a plan between themselves and a few other trusted squadmates. Moons worth of secrets and hiding evidence. A plan to finally escape the clutches of the Garlean army to freedom. That freedom happened to be Eorzea seeing as the battle happened to take place in Carteneau, but anywhere not under Garlean rule would have been sufficient. All they had to do was stick together and move towards the edge of the battlefield. Then just...run like their lives depended on it when there was an opening. Because it did. If they were caught, they’d likely be executed immediately.

Angora’s grip on her bow tightened when she looked back to the battle. Their group wasn’t even fully aware of what the reason for this war was. It’s not like they were in any position to question it. All they knew was they were told that the Eorzeans, like themselves, were savages who needed to be crushed and held under Garlean rule. Something about primals and the Twelve? Was the falling moon their fault or the Empire’s? The only difference between the Eorzean “savages” and the squadron was the fact that they’d already been crushed. Captured and trapped. Forced to obey in hopes of living to see the next day. In Angora’s case, it’s simply all she’d known.

“Move it! Stop your stalling and get in there!”

Angora’s grip on Eli’s hand slips when she gets a firm boot the center of her back from the Legionarius who’d come up behind them. She stumbles forward, using her bow to catch herself before she could end up face first in the dirt. It took all she had not to shoot a glare over her shoulder. Thankfully, she’d had a lifetime worth of practice. Eli was quick to move to her side and address their superior for her.

“Of course, sir! We were just going.”

“You better be. Do not let me catch you hesitating again. For the Empire!”

Angora and Eli both gave him a “For the Empire!” full of forced enthusiasm that seemed to be convincing enough seeing as the Legionarius moved on. It’s only once he’s out of sight that Eli gives Angora a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and angles his head towards the battlefield. Angora nods, pulling an arrow from her quiver as they move forward.

Things become a blur and muted. Eli charges ahead to clear a path through the opposing side while Angora watches his back and picks off stragglers from a distance. He keeps the front safe while she keeps an eye on the rear. The rest of their squadron stayed in the middle. It wasn’t their first battle together but it was certainly the largest. Their moves are robotic and merciless. No care for the lives they were taking. If they didn’t strike first, it would be their bodies in the mud instead of the Eorzeans. They were doing fairly well...until they weren’t.

Their plan was still on track. They’d all managed to work their way towards the edge of the battle without rising too much suspicion. But the longer they fought, the harder it got to stay together. They were tiring as well. More attacks were getting past Eli as the Eorzeans pushed forward. An arrow here, a slash there. Had they been paying attention, maybe they would have noticed the group coming from the side. Maybe the plan would have worked.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a band of Eorzeans pushed in from both sides of the group. Angora was the first to spot it, but she was too late. Too far away for even Eli’s ears to hear her. There were too many explosions. Too much cannonfire and screaming. Angora’s scream was one of them. All she could do was watch in horror as their squadron was picked down and torn apart. Eli and Angora were split off in separate directions and Angora scrambled back just in time to get out of range of a flare that goes off in the center, knocking her to the ground.

“Eli!!” Angora screams, squinting to try and see through the flames as the spell fades. He had to be okay. He had to be. She narrowly dodges a swipe from a sword and wastes no time in shoving an arrow into the attacker’s throat. He looked as scared as she was. His face is forgotten the moment she shoves his body away. Angora fumbles to get to her feet, desperately scooping up her bow and whatever arrows she could find at her feet. It’s then when she sees that not only is the sky still on fire, now that very same fire was raining down onto the battlefield.

Meteors.

Why was this happening?! Wait- did the moon have cracks in it? For just a moment...the fighting stops.

It’s then that what looks to be a giant glowing pillar of some kind falls from Dalamud and collides into the Star, sending shockwaves of rock and dirt across a majority of Carteneau. Bodies and machines alike are also sent flying. Yet again it becomes so loud. It’s too much. It’s too overwhelming. One sound still manages to cut through, though. Angora’s ears turn toward the sound of a gunblade firing before she sees it. What she sees is a battered Eli way too far from her frantically fighting his way through a crowd of Eorzeans.

“Nonono...E-Eli! Don’t worry!” Angora shouts, climbing her way over destroyed magitek. “I’m on my wa-” She freezes. Eli had spotted her and their eyes met. The look he gave her made Angora’s heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Time slows. It was the same smile he always had...but full of so much sadness. He shoved a soldier to the ground before pointing to the mountain range behind her. He was...saying something. His mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the battle happening around them.

“W-What?? I can’t-”

“Go! Get out of here! This is your chance!”

Angora’s breath catches in her throat. Eli’s voice just barely made it to her. Surely he hadn’t just suggested that she leave him behind. She couldn’t. Not him. Were those tears running down her face?

Angora hardly gets a chance to process it before a poorly aimed fire spell causes a blast nearby that sends her flying from off the magitek and back to the ground. Her ears are ringing and she can hardly see past the spots in her vision. Her first and only friend’s voice echoes in her mind.

“Go!”

She...she had to. There was no choice. He was right. This was the first and only chance at freedom that she would get. Twenty cycles of torment could finally be over.

“Damn it! Damn it all!”

Angora rolls onto her side, digging her fingers into the mud while forcing herself to stand. She does not look back. If she did, she wouldn’t leave. Her bow is quickly pulled over her shoulder before she takes off as fast as her legs could carry her. Eorzeans and Garleans alike are ignored as she bobs and weaves her way through the chaos. A blade catches her across the back, but she doesn’t stop. She only stumbles a few steps before blindly pushing forward.

I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.

“Angora?”

Run. Run. Run. She was so close to the mountains. Beyond there was a forest where she could hide. She’d be safe. She had to be. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of Eli’s sacrifice.

“Hey, Angora~?”

Her lungs burn but she refuses to stop. Not until she is able to desperately dig her fingers into the stone and clamber her way over some of the large boulders at the base of the mountain. She spins around just in time to see one of those awful meteors coming right for her. The air becomes impossibly hot. It’s too late. It’s coming. It hurts-

“Angora!”

Angora startles, blinking a few times before looking up from her desk to squint at Eli. He was alive. It was by some miracle that they both were.

“Hellooo? Anyone home?” The viera leans forward to lightly knock on the top of Angora’s head right between the ears. Angora just tsks and swats his hand away.

“Oh hush, Rabbit.”

“Come onnnn! I’m hungry and you’ve been working all day! Let's go!” He about gets a book thrown at that smug face of his when he starts to shake her desk.

“Fine, fine. But you are paying this time.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Warlock's Apprentice

Pairing: warlock!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, allusion to non-con, breeding, non-graphic depiction of violence, manhandling.

Words: 2373.

Summary: You walked side by side with the Devil.

_____________

You still had hard time believing you were walking down the Great Hall, stepping on the white marbled floors and doing your best not to shake while the members of the court stared down at you as if you were some fairytale creature. You saw giant mirrors hanging on blazing white walls and golden curtains, huge heavy chandeliers with thousands of candles, the statues of gold double eagles - everything here was so different compared to the gloomy tower of the Warlock where it was dark even during the brightest days.

Knowing he watched you out of the corner of his eye, you clenched your teeth, keeping your composure. You had to make a good impression, not gape at the walls like a country girl. Maybe you weren't an aristocrat like most of the people here, but you were the Shadow Enchanter, the Soldat's Apprentice, second only to him, and you had a power to reckon with.

"Keep your head up, girl." You heard Bucky's voice in your head and stiffened involuntary. "We are above them all."

Would you be charged with treason if anyone was to discover what your master was telling you? You bet you would.

You stepped on the blue carpet and finally saw a raised throne of gold at the end of the room, beautiful people in ostentatious clothes milling over it - all you saw were not faces but gowns of silk and brocade, fancy parade uniforms, ribbons, medals, and bawdricks. This extravagance was slowly making your stomach sick, but you thought of your completely black soldier's dress and felt a bit better abour yourself. Your master and you must have looked like two crows among the peacocks.

"The Warlock and Shadow Enchanter." Somebody's loud voice thundered, and you saw the King sitting on the golden throne, the Queen to his right, and two young men standing by their sides.

God, it was happening, truly.

The King looked like a man who carried the weight of the world on his thin shoulders, his face unhealthy pale - you could see the dark circles around his eyes regardless of how court magicians tried to cover them with their glamour charms. It was true then, all the rumors you heard of King's withering health. He was only in his forties, but, apparently, he would hardly last long.

The Queen, on the contrary, looked nothing like her plain husband, her body unmistakably strong, her forms magnificent and face looking fresh with ruddy, healthy glow in her cheeks. Her older son was much like her with the same grace in his features - Steven was his name, and he was the very same Prince Charming all the girls in the Academy were talking about when you were still studying there.

You wanted to stare shamelessly at his immensely handsome face, his eyes blue like southern sky in the summer, but you bit your tongue instead. You were no longer a girl dreaming of marrying princes and living in a high castle.

Then you glanced quickly at the other son, Peter, the one who was about your age. While Steven, undoubtedly, took after his mother, Peter reminded you of the King, although much younger and - you admitted with shame - much prettier. He had dark hair and dark eyes, yet there was light to his face. Maybe he lacked the same intimidating air the other royals had around them, but you saw his dignity, his kind and clever eyes shining with interest as the Warlock and you moved closer to the end of the room.

You liked the younger son, you thought and then cringed as you failed to keep your eyes off the princes once again.

"Please don't collapse if one of them decides to talk to you."

You clenched your teeth tighter, hating this awful manner with which your master intruded in your thoughts all the time.

You needed to keep calm. You were to give your vows to protect the royal family and your kingdom. And later... later you were most certainly to be invited to the royal ball organized in Warlock's honor to celebrate his return. Maybe you would get a glimpse of the princes there.

_____________

"Do you think I brought you here to give you to the prince?" His mocking tone turned dark, poisonous. "You think I've been teaching you magic all these years so you could marry one of those pathetic royals and keep giving them babies with Enchanter's blood running through their veins?"

You tried to move away from the Warlock, but he grabbed you by the arm and brought you closer, watching you wincing in pain.

"My task is to keep away the Great Shadow." You whispered, horrified with your teacher's sudden shift of mood and wishing to run to the door the moment he'd let you go. "It doesn't mean I should be celibate."

"And your husband has to be the prince, of course." Bucky grimaced and cupped your chin, staring at you with his scary light eyes from above. "Women. You're all the same. It is never enough for you, is it? I gave you the power to wreck the world, and all you want is to lay beneath a weakling wearing the crown."

You pushed him, chanting a little spell - you caught him by surprised and quickly stepped back, shiver running down your spine. You had seen the Warlock being furious many times, but never as mad as now, pacing back and forth your chamber like a caged beast, his hands clenched in fists. God, you knew he'd take it badly.

"I've done no wrong." You claimed in a shaky voice, thinking of whether you had to chant a barrier around yourself. "I didn't betray you. His Highness said nothing about marrying me or anything of this kind! We've only danced and talked about science and magic."

Bucky let out a laugh, and you felt your stomach twisting.

"Of course, my dear. No one will say anything to you until one day they'll come to your chambers and announce your wedding with prince without asking for your approval. By the way, sweetheart, which prince do you want?" The knot in your throat prevented you from defending yourself in front of your furious master. "I guess you like the young one more, but you caught the attention of the crown prince. You want to be the Queen, don't you? This is the only thing that matters for a little minx like you."

Biting down on your lip, you felt your eyes watering at his words. Why was he saying that? You had never been power-hungry. You cared little for royals and luxury surrounding them, and your master knew it better than anyone else. Why was he saying that? Why did he need to humiliate you for something you had never wished for even in your dreams?

"But I've got to tell you the truth." The man looked at you bitterly. "You'll never be their equal. They'll treat you like nothing but the tool to strengthen their bloodline, and that's all you got to be for them. You'll become one more of their Assets like I've been before."

"Am I not the Asset to you?" You blinked away the tears and stared at him with revulsion, feeling betrayed. "Weren't you going to use me for your own purpose? Don't tell me you wanted to set me free. What's the difference between you and the royal family?"

"Ungrateful little brat." He hissed and moved before you could create the shield.

The man gripped your hair in his fist and yanked you towards your bed, hovering above you and pushing your face in the mattress with all his force. Your cry was muffled by the blanket as you tried to fight him, but was easily outpowered, ropes binding your arms by your master's command. Your first thought was that Bucky wanted to strangle you in rage - you could hardly breathe beneath his large hand. Knowing his unyielding temperament, you did what you could to wriggle free, chanting more and more spells, yet he was able to undo your clumsy charms with ease.

"Stop struggling." He snarled, pushing your face into the bed. "Or I'll show what you get for talking to your master like that."

His angry voice sounded threatening - the last time you disregard it he whipped you that bad you couldn't sit properly for a week, but today everything might end up much worse that that, you thought. You always got to obey him no matter what.

Why did you had to now, though? You were no longer his little girl, hiding in his shadow. Today you were deemed worthy serving your King, and, in fact, the Warlock had no power over you anymore. Unfortunately, he was never bothered by formalities.

"I have fed you, clothed you, given you the roof above you head and shared my knowledge with you." You heard him growling in your ear as he let you breathe again, moving his palm from your head to the back of your neck. "And this is how you thank me for everything I've done for you?"

"I've served you all these years like a dog." You hissed. "I've cooked and cleaned, I've made so many potions I could make a fortune from it alone, I've protected the Tower when Wakandan magus came searching for you. I took all your beatings without saying a word!"

"I didn't beat you, I've trained you."

"You can call it whatever you like, master." You grinned wickedly at him, watching him with your peripheral vision.

His gaze darkened, and you realized you were only making it worse for yourself. Nevertheless, you refused to be intimidated by him, the man who had ruled over you, took advantage of you, forced you to obey his every whim and keep your mouth shut. You wouldn't let him treat you like that. Not anymore.

You felt his ragged breath on the top of your head, his huge body pressing yours into the mattress. He was the Winter Soldier, the Soldat, the Warlock, but you could bring the Great Shadow to the chamber with a snap of your fingers, and he could do nothing to fight it. The only issue with it was that the King would claim you a traitor instead of savior and send all his soldiers to hunt you till the end of your days.

Suddenly, you sensed Bucky's grip weakening, and then he withdrew his hand, letting you move away from him that very second, ropes falling on the bed sheets. His eyes were as cold as a winter night when he stared at you, crawling away from him on the bed.

"Do you want the crown, Y/N?" The man asked sharply, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

"I want someone to love me." You said angrily. "I want to be treated kindly. I want to feel appreciated. I want all the things you would never give me, master."

For a moment you thought Bucky looked hurt before he was on you again, his hands clenching yours and blocking your charms. As you stared at his face, his expression enraged, you growled just like him.

"Rot in Hell." You barked, almost ready to call the Shadow.

"I've been rotting long before you were born, little girl."

He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. You saw his anger disappearing, but you didn't feel a delicious sense of relief, anxiety washing over you even more.

"They've taken away all I had. They stripped me of any family and friends, my comrades, anything I treasured, and they want to snatch you away from me all the same." He whispered lowly, watching you frown. "Stay with me, and I'll make you a saint in the eyes of people. You're the Shadow Enchanter, you're above all the royals hiding in this wretched place."

"But you want me beneath you." You said, deeply hurt at his words and his desire to control you even when you thought he deemed you worthy of his trust. "Above them all, but beneath you. Don't you see I want to be neither queen nor saint? All I ever wanted was to be treated fairly, and you denied me this. You're keep doing it even now."

Suddenly, you realized tears were streaming down your face and making the pillow beneath you wet.

"What have I done to you? I loved you with all my heart, and you mocked me for it. You've made me force these feelings down my throat. I wanted you to be proud of me, value me, tell me I'm good enough, but you didn't. Now you get mad because someone else dared to do it?"

His eyes went wide at your confession.

"Did you love me? Did you ever love me?"

"I did. I even dreamt of marrying you." You bit back a cry, angry at yourself for telling him the truth when all you wanted was to spit in his face. "Imagine, master, I hoped to bear your children. But if you don't want it, maybe one day someone else would."

"I do. I want it."

You winced from humiliation and a deep sense of shame, your face flushed.

Of course, now he'd say whatever you wanted to hear from him to make you comply again. He'd play with your feelings as he had always done, and in the end you won't ever become the true Shadow Enchanter, you'd always be the Warlock's faithful Apprentice and nothing else.

"Do you think I can believe you now?" You let out a quiet laugh, staring at him with resentment and hate.

"I don't need you to believe me." He said and pressed his dry chapped lips to your forehead. "I'll show you. I'll show you that you're wrong."

Bucky moved slightly, and you felt the bulge in his pants against your thigh. Oh Gods.

"No, no, master, please-"

"I'll make you a saint. I'll put a crown on your pretty head." His whisper burnt your ear when his nose brushed against your temple. "I'll give you all the things you deserve, and no prince will take you away from me."

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki  ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 1

Fury/ Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Summary: Don "Wardaddy" Collier just wanted his crew to make it through the war. He carried no expectations for himself. But as each day passed, he worried he would be unable to keep his promise. When fate (or more accurately- Boyd Swan) places a woman in his path with a soft touch and softer heart...perhaps he has more of a motivation to see the end of the war after all.

Hey so I’m back with this series! I posted the first chapter awhile ago and then realized I did not have my plot and characters as “polished” as I wanted. So if you read the first chapter already, I would recommend rereading it. 

The first chapter is shorter compared to the others so to make up for it, I will also be posting the next chapter! Two in one! 

Our beloved Easy Company will come into play in a couple chapters. Patience, my friends. I have a plan...

Warnings: Swearing, some mentions of wounds/blood

Tag List: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​ @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​ 

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Dirt and grime covered his skin and clothing. The sound of the Sherman's tracks rolling over the muddy ground encompassed them. Patches of ice and snow still lined the feeble road. He stared ahead blindly, trusting Gordo to get them to the camp safely. The looks on those around him mirrored his own feelings. Everyone was exhausted. Everyone wanted real food. Everyone was tired of watching allies killed by fucking Tigers. 

 Everyone was sick of this shit. 

 They approached the camp. The cesspool that it looked like from far away became even more evident the closer they got. Half-demolished buildings with a dusting of snow were the only standing structures left of what used to be a quaint little town. Soldiers in grubby gear, rifle over their shoulders, ran around. From far away the sounds of artillery fire echoed. Don wondered who was dying now. 

"Boyd." He looked over at his gunner. "When we get parked, you go find an aid station. Get that hand looked at."

 "Yes, sir." The gunner held his injured hand against his chest, wrapped in a makeshift bandage. 

 After getting directions from a lieutenant, they found the tank squad on the other side of the town. Seeing the three other tanks gave the staff sergeant some hope. 

 "Boyd, medic. Gordo, fill 'er up. Grady, check that suspension. I don't like the way it sounds. Norman, find us some ammunition and where the hot chow is." Don barked out orders as everyone jumped off the tank. Replies of "yes, sir" made him nod, silently proud of his crew, before stalking towards where he assumed HQ was. 

 Soon enough he found the building, soldiers scurrying in and out, making the place look like an overturned ant hill. The glass on the store-front was still intact surprisingly, but the door was busted down leaving a gaping hole to walk through. Sliding past a private who looked barely eighteen coming out, he entered the HQ to see a table set out in the middle with maps laid out, paper weights and bullets strewn about. 

 "Who you?" 

 The gravelly voice made him turn to his right, eyeing up the man sitting on a wingback chair. "Staff Sergeant Don Collier, commander of Fury, 66th Armored Regiment, 2nd Armored Division."

 The man exhaled, smoke slipping between his thin lips, cigarette hanging precariously. "Ah, Wardaddy, eh? Right, come on." He stood up and waved Don over to the table. "Captain Evans. What's your status?"

 Don eyed the man, he seemed far too relaxed for being in a war zone. Then again, his greying hair and beard and those sharp eyes made him briefly wonder if this Captain Evans had been in the Great War. Maybe this was easier compared to trenches? Either way, it was nice to see someone in charge for once that looked like they were actually old enough to shave. Fuck knew too many kids were running around with rifles now, having just gotten out of bootcamp. Don wanted nothing to do with them. 

 "We secured the town here," he pointed at the map, "left 86th Infantry to hold. Then my guys and two other tanks were sent here."

 Captain Evans stared at the maps, mind clearly seeing how best to utilize them. "You and two tanks, eh?"

 "Yeah. Ran into a tiger though. Now it's just my guys."

 His bushy eyebrows shot up, even those around the table quieted down with the news. "Just you?" At Don's nod, the Captain tapped his fist on the table. "Damn those tigers. Alright, good to have you here, Don. We're waiting on some intel before sending you out. You and your guys get some chow and rest. Come back and see me in the morning."

 "Yes, sir." Don nodded and walked out of the building, relieved they were not being sent out right away. 

 As he walked down the filthy, cobbled street, he could feel the shakes beginning in his hands. Quickly, he stepped onto a side street, hoping no one would notice him. Leaning back against the brick wall of the building, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before anyone could see them shaking. Memories of the fight from yesterday replayed in his mind without permission. The tiger easily destroyed the rest of his platoon. In a matter of minutes, him and his crew were alone. Ten men. They had lost ten men. Good men...well mostly good. There was that one asshole in Edward's squad no one would miss.

 War took the best and worst; death it’s equally possessive lover.  

 Hands slightly fumbling, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The lighter took a few clicks before catching. With the inhale, the nicotine and smoke settled in his lungs beautifully. He closed his eyes, letting the cigarette help calm his nerves and try to erase the memories of his platoon. They were dead now. It did no good to dwell on it. 

 After several minutes his hands finally stilled. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed off the building and headed out to find his crew. He glanced around wondering the likelihood of finding a roof and real beds for his guys tonight. They deserved it. Especially after all this shit. His own back cried out for a reprieve from sleeping on the hard ground. 

 Yeah, he would figure out something. Even if he had to toss some goddamn young Privates out into the stained snow. 

 *****

 "Nurse Cooper! You can handle this!" 

 She pushed the flyaway strands of auburn hair out of her face as she walked past the injured, following the voice of Doctor Erickson. The cries, screams and whimpers of the injured and dying no longer affected her. Or at least that was what she told herself. At least this field hospital had separate areas based on severity and a roof over the top.

 She had worked in far worse conditions before. 

 She nodded to the tall, blond doctor who barely gave her a passing glance as he shoved past her, away from injuries he deemed lesser than what he should be focusing his attention on. 

 A man sat on the edge of a cot, cradling his hand in his lap, which was wrapped up like a mummy. He was not screaming or swearing, so she took that as a good sign. His eyes were closed, lips moving silently like he was praying, a thick mustache twitching with every movement. He looked like he could only be a couple years older than her own twenty-three years.

 "What's your name, soldier?" She stood in front of him, wiping her hands on the stained apron she wore over her equally stained dress. Once they had both been white; now, the apron and dress were a patchwork of stains from blood, dirt and other questionable fluids she chose not to think of. 

 He looked up, his brown eyes meeting her blue in surprise. "Boyd Swan, ma'am. Those in my crew call me Bible though. " 

 "Well, Boyd, mind if I take a look at your hand?" She perched on a stool as he offered up his hand. Quickly, she unwrapped it to see the damage with a gentle but methodical touch. A long laceration bled across the palm and past the wrist, thankfully not deep. Honestly, looking it over, it was kind of a miracle it was not worse. 

 "Well, you're lucky, Boyd. Any deeper and you might have lost use of your hand. You might have some nerve damage; I do not think immobility is a concern at this point. I think we can get away without stitches if you can promise me you'll keep your hand bandaged and try not to use it."

 "It's not luck, He's looking out for me and my crew." He pointed a finger on his other hand skyward. 

 "Yes, He certainly was. Let me grab some new bandages." She grabbed some cleaning solution and bandages for the man. The sooner she finished with him, the less likely there would be concern for infection. If she guessed, it would appear the injury happened at the earliest maybe yesterday. More than enough time for it to become infected. Though her training had taught her to ask and determine when the injury occurred, lately she found herself hating that question. It always led into a story and hearing even more of the horrors these men faced. Her mind had enough memories of blood and guts to fuel nightmares for a hundred years. If she could refrain from hearing others’ memories, she found herself choosing too.

 The other reason she wanted to finish with him soon was to open up the bed he currently sat on, in case a worse injury came in. Luckily there had not been a large-scale fight in a week so they only had trickles of men coming in instead of waves of dying men. 

 "You a religious woman?" 

 She looked up from cleaning his hand to meet his earnest eyes. "I guess. I don't pray like I used to."

 He hummed. "I can respect that. I suspect you've seen plenty of death."

 Not wanting to remember all the faces of young men she had slaved over, only for them to die under her care, she changed the subject. "Why do they call you Bible?"

 "I'm always reading the Bible... I reckon that's where it started. I stopped trying to convert those heathens in my tank. I pray for their souls though. Always will." His voice trailed off quietly, but the fondness in it was unmistakable. 

 "You're a good man, Boyd."

 He nervously chuckled, looking away for a moment with the sound of his foot tapping repeatedly on the ground. "No, I'm just doing the Lord's work. That's all."

 "Well, I'm done." Smiling at him, she pushed back slightly. It was nice to have a patient not screaming at her or leering. There were too many of those men as of late. "Do you know your orders yet?"

 "No, ma'am. We just rolled in an hour ago."

 "Alright, if you're still here tomorrow I'd like to take a look at your hand again in the morning."

 "I can do that." 

 "Good. Go rest up now, find some food. You earned it." She stood up, holding the soiled cloths, ready to move on to the next patient or task. 

 "I will.” He rose along with her, clearly understanding the dismissal. "Oh ma'am, what's your name?" 

 For a moment she hesitated to share her name. Normally she preferred the men to call her Nurse Cooper. From past experience, if she told them her name, they seemed to think she was interested in them. Yet with this man, she found herself wanting to share her name. He was kind and respectful. There were no gut feelings scaring her away from him. "Anna. I'm Anna Cooper."

 "Pleasure to meet you, Anna Cooper. You need anything, you let me know, right?"

 She was unsure how he could help her. Depending on his orders she might never see him again, but she nodded to humor him. "Sure. It was lovely to meet you too, Boyd."

 With a parting smile from both, she hurried to the back of the building where they kept the large tub for boiling cloths. She grimaced when she noticed how low the water was. That meant she would have to go to the river soon. A shiver shot through her at the anticipated cold awaiting her outside. Thankfully most of the snow had melted already but winter’s chill still clung possessively to the air. Plus, it did not help how easily cold sunk into her bones. Back home her family would tease her about that fact. Here, on the edge of the front lines, it only made her life more difficult.

 Before Doctor Erickson found a reason to yell at her, she headed back out to assist in whatever way possible. Her conversing with Boyd was her first positive interaction in a few days besides with the few others nurses stationed at the field hospital. She hoped he was not sent away too soon. 

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Behind a Name

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars + Original Character

Collection/Series: N/A

Pairing: Captain Bear (Clone Trooper OC) x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T (Drinking)

Warnings: Characters, not the reader, drinking. Swearing. Yearning.

Summary: Out at a Cantina with Bear and his men, you ask a burning question that’s been on your mind ever since you first met him.

Notes: Hi, yes, i’m still on my Captain Bear Bullshit. 

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It’s not something you usually do, grabbing drinks with the clone troopers, but Captain Bear’s little troop had whined and moaned at you about leaving medical for five minutes and actually letting your hair down. The most vocal being Sunny and Kal, who had been adamant that you actually socialise even if it was just with them. 

You liked Bear’s little rag tag group of soldiers. They were friendly, approachable and oddly enough not quite as straight-laced as some of the others. You often caught them breaking rules and turned a blind eye, little, harmless things that made them entirely more human and entirely more individual and likeable. You didn’t have friends so to speak, but they were the closest to something like that for you.

Captain Bear was the most intriguing of the bunch. Leading the little troupe he was both a captain, authoritative and strategic, and an almost father like figure to his brothers. You noticed the little things he did for them; making sure they ate enough, got to bed on time, had their wounds seen to, that they were doing okay in every little way. Despite his large size, standing at an impressive 6ft 5 with the broadest shoulders you’d ever seen on a man, he was seemingly one of the gentlest of the clones you’d ever met. He spoke softly almost always, was gentle in the way he hefted younglings onto his shoulders and spoke to them as they drew on his armour. He was a rather good case of not judging a book by its cover, and he made you incredibly curious. 

You didn’t know much about them, any of them. They were right when they moaned that you barely ever left medical, that you barely ever socialised beyond small talk while tending to injuries. It was a sudden realisation that you didn’t really have any friends and that maybe it was time that you stopped being ‘doc’ all the time and started being you, a friend. That’s what convinced you to go out that night, that’s what convinced you to ask a burning question that had been on your mind since you met the Captain. 

“So how exactly did you decide on the name Bear?” You ask him as you lean back in the booth, your preferred beverage in your hand and your legs swung over one of Kal’s. Each trooper chose his own name, after the Jedi had made a point of encouraging more individuality. Each trooper had a reason for the name he chose and it was something that fascinated you endlessly. 

The men around you chuckle, Bear included who looks at you with a soft little grin that shows his teeth. It’s annoyingly distracting, the way his smile looks, comforting and inviting. 

“You know what a Garu-Bear is?” Sunny asks you before Bear can answer your question, wide grin across his face, stretching the scar across his lip. 

You shake your head, assuming some sort of bear like creature but not having heard of that particular species before. Although the vastness of the galaxy it seemed like every other day you heard about another creature that you’d likely never see in person. 

“Massive bastards and very, very protective of their cubs. Big parental instincts, pretty soppy for something that can take your head off.” Delta chimes in, explaining what one was. Before Sunny shoves him over to take charge again, “Well, he’s as big and as protective as one, that’s why he’s called Bear.”

“Cause he acts like our damn Papa Bear all the time! Can’t even go out for a drink without him worrying over whether we’ve eaten enough or drank enough water!” Delta chimes in with a guffaw, practically slapping his knee over his own joke, spilling his spotchka over Kal who shoves him away from him with a groan. 

“There isn’t any shame in looking after my troops and making sure you eat and sleep.” Bear insists although it’s clear from the way his brow furrows upwards in the middle and the less natural curve of his smile that he’s a little embarrassed by the teasing. It’s sweet, you think, the way he looks out for his brothers, his men. Even if they tease him for it. It’s sweet that he actually cares. You’ve seen captains who put distance between themselves and their men, who don’t seem to care, not truly. 

“Then there’s the younglings! He’d adopt every kid we come across if he could, drawn to them like Sunny’s drawn to stray lothcats.” Kal puts his two credits in, leaning across the table and gesturing in the air, drink in hand. His words are a little slurred and you can’t help but smile at how at ease each of the men are in Bear’s presence, even as he, himself, shifts a little uncomfortable in his seat. Bear scratches his beard as if to simply give his hands something to do. 

“Hey, don’t be too rough on the captain, not like he’s allowed to have any of his own!” Sunny chimes in in the man’s defence, but you can see how it only embarrasses Bear more. It’s a known fact that the clones weren’t allowed families, weren’t allowed romantic relationships let alone to have children of their own. It’s sad and unfortunate you think, considering Bear would probably make a wonderful father. It breaks your heart a little to know that something so simple as having a family of his own is out of his reach, something he clearly craves on some level. 

“Alright, alright! Enough! Why don’t you interrogate the good doctor now, huh?” He gestures towards you with a large hand covered in little scars, pulling the attention away from him as he goes to drink from his cup. You give him a glare that’s not truly annoyed so much as teasing as Delta turns on you this time, clearly the tipsiest of the bunch. 

“She’s as much a mama bear as you’re a papa bear. Always fussing over us like we’re her kids!” 

“In my defence whenever I see you, Delta, you’re usually filled with blaster holes!” You don’t have much of an argument against it, in truth, because he’s not wrong. You are a naturally caring person, that’s why you went into medicine. Combine that with a healthy sense of right and wrong and a protective streak and it was evident that you could in fact be a bit of a mother bear. 

“Yes, ma’am, doesn’t explain all the times you bring Sunny those little sweets he likes or how you remembered that I like spotchka the best.”

“Okay, okay...I'm a mama bear, are you happy now?”

“Oh, plenty!” 

The night continues in that vein. Questions are thrown about and answered, with many a teasing remark as you get to know them all a little better and in turn they learn a lot more about you than they ever thought they would.

Once Delta and Kal are a little too drunk to keep going responsibly, you all make your way out of the Cantina. Bear with Delta slung fully over one shoulder and with his free arm underneath Kal’s as he helps them on their way back to the barracks. Delta being by far the most intoxicated. You trail behind with Sunny, making sure the tipsy, but not quite as drunk, man doesn’t fall over or run into anyone either. 

Bear and yourself are it seems, the only two sober individuals. It almost makes you laugh, how clearly caring the two of you are, that you fell into the role of the sober friends without meaning to. You just did it because it made sense to ensure your friends got back to barracks okay. It was a startling similarity between the two of you.

Once the two of you have dropped all three men back into the barracks and effectively tucked them into bed, you turn to leave and make your way back to your own quarters across the base. But a gentle hand on your wrist stops you, careful as if worried he’d break you just with a little touch. 

You face him, not shrugging off the touch, in fact revelling in it a little too much. A sure sign that your lack of social behaviour has led to you being just a little bit touch starved. It shouldn’t feel that good, shouldn’t cause a yearning in your chest, to have someone hold your wrist gently. 

Bear looks at you as he brushes that curl out of his face, the one that promptly falls back into place across his forehead. He’s gentle as his thumb strokes your wrist and he smiles softly at you, those teeth peeking out from behind his lips, dimples forming at the corner of his mouth. 

“Let me walk you back? Please?” You don’t need to think, just nod with a bashful smile and slip your wrist from his hand only to bravely slip your hand into his. He twines your fingers together, his so much larger than your own make you feel delicate in a way you haven’t ever felt before. 

You feel the warmth in your cheeks, the stutter in your chest as you walk together back towards your quarters. It is early in the morning and no one is wandering about, it makes it easy to forget that you’d both be in trouble if caught with your fingers locked like that. Makes it easy to forget that he’s not allowed an entanglement of the romantic sort. 

Despite his significantly longer legs, he slows his pace to match yours, considerate of the difference in your walking speeds. Something little, something that shouldn't matter, but it does, it makes your chest ache. You don’t talk on the walk back, just enjoy each other’s company, the warmth of your hands in each other’s the brush of your arms and the feeling of something new. 

There are a few moments where you catch his eye, the two of you caught staring at the other and you laugh awkwardly and look away, warm and giddy and decidedly not feeling like a qualified doctor, like an adult in charge of a series of medical droids and nurses. You feel like a child, a little one with a brand new crush.

But, it’s not new. You have to admit to yourself that you’ve been attracted to Bear since you first saw him, since he introduced himself and his team. He is handsome, warm, and inviting. Like a summer’s day, a soft breeze that plays with your hair and a beaming sun warming your skin. He is gentle and kind too, something which is a stark contrast to so many of the men you are surrounded by every single day. He is careful with his voice, his words, and his actions. Aware of every move he makes, aware of how he is perceived and how he can intimidate. It is his consideration for those around him, his care and protection that warms your soul. You want to be one of those people, one of the people he cares for, protects, looks after...and you want to look after him in return. 

Your quarters are isolated, the head doctor, you are given private quarters away from everyone else. A privilege that has often left you feeling isolated, now as the two of you stand in front of your door, hand in hand, you are thankful for the quiet and isolation. 

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you look up at him. Eyes roaming over the freckles on his brown skin, the scar that covers his cheek, that stubborn curl that falls over his forehead no matter how hard he tries to move it. 

“Goodnight, Mesh’la.” The mando’a falls off his tongue like honey, soft and sweet it caresses your ears and brings a sigh from your chest as he watches you intently. 

“Goodnight, Captain.” But neither of you actually pull away, neither of you untangle your fingers or make to leave the other. Instead the two of you stand there staring at each other in silence, fingers tightening and loosening against each other as you shift them. 

You want him to kiss you. You want him to ask to, your tongue sliding across your bottom lip, nervous and full of anticipating. You’re sure he wants to kiss you too, his brown eyes follow the motion, glancing between your eyes and your lips as if ready to ask, to move. 

He doesn’t. He takes a deep breath as if steeling himself and pulls away, slowly, ever so slowly, untangling your fingers with a sad little smile that is filled with regret and longing. 

“I...I should get back to the barracks...in case the commander comes by.”

“Of course...of...of course.” You can hear the disappointed loud and clear, riding your voice, and so can he, but Bear knows it’s a bad idea. It’s a terrible idea no matter how much he wants to kiss you, he knows he shouldn’t. Knows it’s against the rules, knows he can’t offer you what you deserve. You don’t deserve to be a dirty little secret, a hidden relationship. So he pulls away. 

You watch him, leaning back against the door to your quarters as his broad form walks away. Watch him look back not just once, but twice. Watch the sad dip of his brows, the longing smile as he moves away from temptation. He rounds a corner and then he is gone and you wonder if you will have to live with this ache in your chest for all your days. If it is your burden to bear.

                                             ------------------------------

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[endof-theline]

Day 30- Tropetember: Free Space (Soulmate)

Last day of super early Tropetember with Soulmate for Free Space! In a world where Soulmates couldn't lie or harm each other, it made Tony's search extremely easy as most of the people around him were either lying to him or attempting to hurt him.

(The document all of this series is in totalled 113 pages worth of writing in the end!)

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32925826

In a world where Soulmates couldn't lie or harm each other, it made Tony's search extremely easy as most of the people around him were either lying to him or attempting to hurt him. Those who were actually close to him, Tony immediately asked for them to pinch his arm to make sure.

Being Howard Stark's son and following him into the business world meant that people were always lying to gain his favour, so the genius got very good at being able to tell when people were lying to him which came in handy when he met Agent Coulson and was forced into the world of spies.

As much as Tony had wanted Natasha to be his soulmate when they first met, but Tony quickly found out that she was lying to him and then later was harmed by her so it was pretty clear that they were definitely not soulmates, much to Tony’s dismay at the time. It was a good trial run before he met with the rest of the team, every time he met a new teammate he hoped that they would be his soulmate and every time he would be lied to or he would be hurt so by the time he met their leader, he had given up slightly.

“Mister Stark, they’ve told me a lot about you” Captain Steve Rogers said with a smile, offering his hand out for Tony to take while Tony quickly decided that he had no longer given up hope.

“Likewise Captain, though Howard had already told me most of it” Tony shook his hand with his own grin on his face, he noticed Steve’s surprised look before it was covered back over “Dad never shut up about you, actually”

“They told me he was the one who kept searching for me in the ice” There was an odd look still on Steve’s face but it wasn’t the surprise from before so Tony ignored it as he dropped his hand to his side.

“That’s right, he was out looking for you all the time when I was a kid before he let Shield take it over” Tony was still smiling even as he was mentally panicking, he had never told anyone about how much Howard had been invested in finding the frozen soldier and he wasn’t quite sure why he was telling said frozen soldier all of this now “Anyway, you’re leading the fight with Loki?”

“I am, and I hear you’re joining us” Steve nodded as he gestured for Tony to sit down with him, the blonde sitting down first as Tony paused for a moment to really take in the height difference between them “Iron Man, right?”

“I didn’t choose that name, but you’re right, me in my armour” Tony sat down and barely reacted when Natasha snuck up behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder so he looked over with a raised eyebrow “I’d say this is a private conversation, but I know you spies don’t have that sort of thing”

“Certainly not here, we don’t” Natasha smirked at him before nodding to Steve who was looking between the pair of them curiously “Captain, Director Fury is looking for you, he wants to discuss Loki and his army since Thor has opened up about it”

“Of course, it was nice meeting you Tony” Steve stood with a small sigh that Tony could barely hear, he gave Tony a smile still however before he started walking away.

“Back at you, Cap!” Tony called over his shoulder, waiting until the man had disappeared behind closed doors to turn to Natasha with a grin that she knew all too well “I’m in love”

“You’re an idiot” Natasha replied just as quickly, resisted the urge to smile at Tony’s dramatic gasp as he held his hand over his heart “You just met him and you think he’s your soulmate”

“No one ever says it’s nice to meet me and actually look like they mean it without being sarcastic, you were here, do you think that was a lie?” Tony asked quickly, moving from sitting in the chair to sitting on the table in a flash, feet on the chair and arms crossed on top of his knees as he leant forward to Natasha with a grin on his face.

“Just because he wasn’t lying to you doesn’t mean he’s your soulmate” Natasha argued as Clint walked through the door, Tony didn’t worry about the archer hearing the conversation because he was fully aware that Natasha told him everything anyway.

“Who does Tony think is his soulmate now?” Clint asked as he came over and sat beside Tony on the table, Natasha rolling her eyes at the grown up children in front of her.

“The Captain”

“You would be really cute soulmates” Clint commented with a shrug before Natasha groaned and Tony cheered as he threw his hands up in celebration “Cap’s all big and serious and Tony’s small and fun, they would be great!”

“I’m not small!” Tony yelled.

“That’s not the point!” Natasha shouted at the same time.

“Whatever, I’m just saying that they would be cute together” Clint shrugged once more before Bruce, Thor, Steve and Fury all charged into the room, Tony and Clint hopping off of the table and into chairs before either Steve or Fury could scold them for it. Natasha was contemplating smacking Tony when she noticed the soft look on his face as he watched Steve sitting opposite him, she was sure he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying but just staring at his face instead.

Everyday leading up to the fight with Loki, Tony tried his best to trick Steve into lying to him or riling him up to try and provoke him to at least try to slap Tony away. Nothing was working, Natasha was bragging about how she was right while Clint was brainstorming ways to help Tony in his mission.

It wasn’t until the night before they predicted Loki, Tony got his answer. It was getting close to one in the morning and Tony had given up the thought of being able to sleep through the night so he decided to get up and grab some coffee before going back to sleep for nightmare number four, it was in the kitchen that Tony found Steve with his back up against the wall, head between his knees as he had curled into a tight ball as he sat on the floor.

“Steve?” Tony called out softly, not wanting to spook the man if he was going through something but also wanting to check in on him. When Steve didn’t make any indication of even hearing Tony, he came to his side and waited for a moment for the man to look up “Steve?”

Still nothing. Tony gently reached down and touched Steve’s shoulder before everything happened all at once. Steve jerked at Tony’s touch before he jumped up and shoved Tony’s arms behind his back as he pressed him to the wall. Steve's eyes were hard but glazed over for a second before he shook his head and stared confused at Tony who was trying hard not to panic himself.

“Tony? Why-? What happened?” Steve’s voice was so lost that it made Tony want to cry for the man. He tried to worm out of Steve’s grip but found it too tight to really pull away without possibly hurting the other man.

“Think you might have been a little caught up in your head there, Cap” Tony teased to try and ease Steve’s confused, sad look off his face but Steve just frowned at him even more “Flashback, maybe?”

“Shit, I think you’re right, I’m sorry” Steve hissed under his breath as he dropped his head down, his grip going loose so that Tony could turn around and look up to the lost Captain “Did I hurt you?”

“Not sure you could” Tony laughed but there was little humor in it, luckily Steve didn’t really take the hint as he seemed to be lost in thought again “You worried about tomorrow?”

“I didn’t think so, maybe I am if I’m screwed up so bad” Steve huffed as he fisted his hair, eyes screwed shut before Tony reached up and took hold of his hand gently, a flash of panic running across Steve’s face before looking like he realized something and calmed back down again “I’m- I’ll be fine, Tony, thank you though”

“Did you just try to say I’m fine to me?” Tony asked quickly, he recognized that defeated look from his own face and he knew what he always told Pepper and Rhodey whenever he looked like that and it was always a lie.

Steve paused for a second before nodding slowly, his eyes going wide in shock as he stared down at Tony “Are we-?”

“I think” Tony squeaked, he hadn’t imagined it ever getting it this far so he didn’t know what to say now “I mean, if you can’t hit me then it’s true”

“I don’t want to hit you” Steve refused quickly as he stepped back and pulled his hands away from Tony’s, Tony matched his steps with bright eyes and only slightly aware that he probably looked more than a little crazy.

“I honestly think you won’t be able to” Tony said confidently as he held his head high, chin out and almost looking defiant “I want to know before we go into this fight, please try even if you end up hitting me!”

Steve stared at Tony for a long moment before sighing slightly and holding his hand up, Tony just clenched his jaw and managed not to flinch when Steve’s large hand swung down towards him, his hand stopping inches away from Tony’s face like there was an invisible barrier in front of him.

“Can’t hit you, feels like a wall” Steve whispered before dropping his hand and moving to cup Tony’s cheek instead making Tony blush and Steve grin as he felt the heat in his hand “Guess you’re the reason I stayed frozen for so long, waiting for you”

“Just wish it didn’t have to be so rough for you” Tony hummed softly as he couldn’t help thinking that Steve would be the first person in his life that wouldn’t lie to him, he would be the first person Tony wouldn’t have to worry about getting hit by. Even if something awful happened during the war on Loki and his army, Tony would still be happy that he finally found his soulmate and that his soulmate would be by his side while they fought. Even if the worst happened to Tony, he could die happy knowing that he had met the one person who could tell no lies or do no harm to him, his soulmate.

[sophi-s]

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

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Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I  P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body… 

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

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It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

[hbosscreations]

Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

It’s a little later than I’d hoped for, but here is my contribution to @redvsbluesecretsanta for @artesoterica! You asked for Southalina, with a general positive mood! This fic is an AU taking place on Season 15′s Chorus moon in a universe where the Reds and Blues actually get to rest and build a life for themselves. I hope you like it.

                                   Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

 When South heard Carolina’s coded message, left in such a way that any of her former people would find it if they were looking, she…didn’t really know what to expect. She wasn’t certain it was meant for her with the way South left things, what with her and Wash trying to kill one another, but it was so damn earnest that South couldn’t ignore it.

‘Wash and I are alive, we’ve shut down the Project and made a safe space for all of us to live. If you see this, come find us. Come home.’

She wasn’t keen at first on going to find anyone, let alone other members of Project Freelancer, but Carolina was good on her word Chorus’s moon wasn’t what she thought it would be. It sounded like isolation, like hiding in a long-abandoned base or in a tiny apartment sleeping in shifts, but Carolina and her people had turned it to something else entirely. The Reds and Blues regularly communicated with the planet below, a shuttle came up more than once to drop off and pick-up soldiers for no reason South could figure out aside from play dates with weapons.

Just like this one.

A shuttle had arrived earlier that day carrying a new face along with a few others that South recognized from the deliveries every other week. The Sim Troopers had quite the fan club, and it was very normal for the shuttle to arrive and stay overnight so the troops could hang out. This time, the newcomer seemed to get all of the attention. It was such a relief to not feel the pointed stares from both the Reds and Blues and the Chorus soldiers.

South blew up her bangs and retied the bandana around her head to keep her hair out of the way while she worked on Sarge’s warthog, the perfect vantage point to observe without staring and be present without having to actually interact with anyone. The Sim Troopers weren’t as bad as South expected them to be most days, Washington’s influence excluded, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with them yet.

The strange woman who arrived in the shuttle, wearing bright yellow armor and a swagger that told everyone who saw her that she was hot shit and she knew it, immediately screamed for Grif to get his lazy butt outside and come help move her shit inside the base.

It didn’t take long for her to start chatting and then chasing the Sim Troopers around. She hooted and hollered and pelted the soldiers with paintballs from a gun that should not have been shooting paintballs in the first place, all the while crowing ‘GO BLUE!’.

Despite the fact she didn’t seem to care if she was hitting a Red or a Blue.

Judging by the yelling and giggles, they didn’t seem to mind it either.

South’s helmet was dropped next to her on the engine while she watched, contemplating if she had earned enough good will to join in considering practically everyone on the moon was playing already, and Carolina put a hand on South’s shoulder to draw her attention.

New Carolina was the day to Old Carolina’s night. More emotionally mature, more secure in herself, and more confident. The dark shadows had finally passed, but she was still the same woman South had served under.

“You should probably put that on. It would be horrible if Kai accidentally shot you in the eye; the only medical treatment you’re likely to get is CPR and orange juice.”

The hand shifted from her shoulder and brushed the back of her neck. South barely held in her shiver.

New Carolina was more tactile, taking the time to make contact outside of training. She always had time for a smile, something kind to say even if the comment was odd, and casual touching that felt out of place coming from her former leader.

South had to admit that it was nice to be appreciated, though.

“Which army is Kai from, Fed or New Republic? I don’t recognize her or the paint job.”

“She’s the youngest of our Sims, Grif’s little sister, not from Chorus.”

The Reds looked to have begun their retaliation, pulling out buckets of paint, paint balloons, and paint ball guns of their own. They ran around screaming with her instead of running from her, and South laughed a little.

“They’re like a bunch of goofy teenagers, aren’t they? I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep them all alive so long.”

She pulled her helmet on, ignoring the fact that most of her armor was on the ground. She could handle paintball welts and didn’t feel like trading the extra protection of the armor for the contact she got when Carolina watched her work. Standing just a little too close, with her hand on South’s lower back, it felt like things were actually right.

“She’s going to be staying.”

The warthog got regular work, practically daily maintenance and fine tuning, but for some reason it felt like everything South did to it was undone at the end of the day.

“Hmm.”

“She talks a lot, but you can’t be mean unless you want the Reds and Blues both mad at you. Grif is really protective of her; they all are.”

Knowing Sarge, it probably was. He probably came in as soon as she walked away and fiddled with it, bickering with Lopez as he used a wrench on the wrong pieces and broke screwdrivers inside.

“South? Are you listening to me?”

“Sure, Yellow is a wild child and I shouldn’t pick on her. The Sims don’t talk to me much, why would I bother with Grif’s little sister?”

Was Lopez doing this? Normally he fixed things, but maybe he resented her coming in and doing his job for him. It did prevent him from avoiding the rest of Red Team.

“South, will you stop for a second? Look at me?”

Shit. South must have missed a tone thing again, it happened sometimes. Between the military and being on her own for so long, South didn’t always know how to read casual conversation anymore. She preferred direct conversation any day.

“I’m worried about you.”

That flash of guilt that flared up any time Carolina wanted to take care of her was back.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m coping.”

“You’re stagnating. Soon you’re going to start tearing your hair out and alienating the guys because you’re bored and looking for stimulation. Trust me, antagonizing the Reds and Blues will only lead to problems and you do not want that. I care about you and I would hate for you to end up with mustard in your blankets or a bucket of snakes above your door. Let me introduce you to Kaikaina Grif.”

“I don’t understand what meeting her has got to do with antagonizing anybody or the strangely bizarre and specific pranks.”

“You’re bored, and Kai is definitely not boring. I think spending some time with her will be good for you.”

Carolina didn’t accept Wash and South tiptoeing around one another or South trying to sneak out in the middle of the night because of her insomnia, and she apparently wasn’t going to rest until South had made some friends, even if that meant flying friends in for her.

The hand on her neck started to massage gently, feeling the tension that had settled there. South let out a groan.

“You’re what? Assigning her to me?”

“Oh no, Kai’s been a Blue longer than you’ve been here, she outranks you. I’m assigning you to her.”

“What?”

Carolina called out to Kai and waved her in before she firmly turned South to face the Sim Trooper charging at them. The moment the woman in yellow skidded to a stop in front of them, she took a beat to look South up and down before she turned and did the same to Carolina.

“Carolina, lookin’ fine-ah! Still bangin’ as always! How are the jam sessions with the band?”

“They have yet to comment on my being tone deaf and I’m not spoiling the game, so it’s been fun. Kai, this is South, she’s an old friend of mine in need of someone to teach her how to have a good time. Can you do that?”

“Ch, yeah! I am great at fun!”

“Fantastic. Kai, from now on, South follows your orders the way she used to follow mine. She won’t like it, she’ll bitch, but she’s a great soldier and a good friend to have at your back.”

“If you want a knife put in it.”

Washington came around the warthog, a large splash of red down his left side and a steady spattering of blue on the right. He must have gotten caught in the middle of the fight.

“Hey, Kai. What’s up?”

“Hey, Cop. You still being a cop? You have to tell me, you know!”

“That’s still not a law.”

That easy amused tone shook South. He sounded so much older; more world weary. It fit him.

“Washington,” Carolina bit out, “If you’re not going to play nice, go away.”

He saluted, patted Kai on the shoulder, and moved back into the fray. The soldiers cheered as he snagged a balloon and smashed it into the side of Tucker’s head.

“Anyway, Kai, South is my gift to you. Think of her like you’ve just been given a very angry puppy and you’ll be great.”

“Carolina, you cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious; you need someone to help you transition to our way of life and Kai is the best person to do that. Kai, her job is to do what you tell her, your job is to keep her from going off the deep end. Don’t order anything I wouldn’t approve of, but other than that, go nuts.”

South scowled at the thought of a woman at least ten years younger than her, a stranger, issuing orders. She didn’t exactly have a choice but to go on with it, where else was she going to go?

“This is ridiculous.”

And it’s not like she wanted to leave anyway. Not again. Not after everything she’d gone through to get there.

Not after finally getting her chance to be with Carolina again.

“I’m not your commanding officer anymore. You could always say no, but if that’s the case I’m giving you to the Reds, and their chaos is unbridled. Think of it this way, Donut will do your nails, but Kai excels at doing hair and your purple has been missing for too long.”

South shrugged and Kai immediately dragged her toward the base.

“You’re the one with purple tips, right? I’ve seen the pics. We’re doing your hair right now. I know that you haven’t had a dye job since you got here, there’s no one here that does hair even half as good as me!”

She jabbered endlessly while she set up a chair at the big sink on the base. Her steady stream of increasingly weird stories about herself and her sex life made South laugh, and the commentary about the guys on base made South sure she never wanted to get on this girl’s bad side.

Once they were gone, Carolina wheeled a large box into the room.

“Your portable salon, madame. Don’t scare her off, ok? It took forever to bring her home.”

“Pshaw! She likes me already! Don’t you, baby?”

Both women looked at South and she shrugged.

“You’re fine. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to work.”

“I’ll take that as a win for now! You’ll warm up.”

With that, Kai pushed South into the chair and threw a cape around her shoulders. Kai’s hands were sturdy and soothing as they carded through South’s hair and scratched at her scalp, talking about what she thought would look best for a minute before she realized South wasn’t listening in the slightest and switched back to talking about herself again. How she’d wanted to go to beauty school when she was younger, and that she used to do everyone’s hair at the circus. South only half listened.

God, her fingers were like magic.

South melted into the chair and decided to let the woman have her way with her hair. Worst case scenario, South would shave her head and let it grow back. And it was worth it to have her hair ruined if Kai would just keep working on her hair.

“She’s funny, right?”

South made a questioning noise.

“Carolina. She shows her love weird. She’s been trying for weeks now to get me out here, telling me Grif misses me, that the team is trying to set up a training center here. Didn’t fly, cause that sounds awful, so she talked to the freaking president of Chorus and got me a training gig putting together events and festivals on the planet’s surface. Someone decided they needed events for good public relations and off world traffic, and I’m pretty good at it!”

Carolina laughed a little from where she was pointedly not hovering.

“She got you a job, huh?”

“She got me a good paying job where my brother can keep an eye on me, so he’s happy. From there, it’s like a waterfall, making him happy makes Simmons happy, which makes Donut and Sarge happy, which makes Caboose happy, which makes Tucker happy, which makes Wash happy, which makes Carolina happy. Everyone here is sooooo codependent. You, I don’t know about, but that’s ok. We’re gonna party and I’ll learn all your secrets.”

God, the thought of going to the planet’s surface to ‘party’ made South’s whole body tense up. Way too much exposure, to high a risk of being seen.

“I don’t really party these days.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll fix that. Once I get you sorted, Carolina can finally stop worrying about her little circle and relax. Anything you want in particular? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna trim you up and give you crazy purple hair, it’s gonna take some time, but it’ll look fabulous.”

“I’m in your hands, gorgeous.”

“You’re a flirt! I like that.”

South did her best to keep up the chatting, thankful that Kai held the majority of the conversation herself, and when she might have lulled, Carolina stepped in and stoked the conversation back up.

She did the whole nine yards; washed South’s hair, massaged her scalp, trimmed her up to something more akin to her preferred style, bleached her hair for coloring and mixed colors. South honestly didn’t give a shit about what Kai did, so she gleefully went to town.

Once she started putting color on, Carolina frowned.

“You’re doing her whole head?”

“I have creative license here, so yeah, I’m doing her whole head! It’s gonna be fucking badass, just you wait!”

Carolina pulled up a chair and sat across from South with a nervous smile and stretched her leg out to brush ankles with South. South smiled back and tapped Carolina with the side of her boot. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t want or need to.

Kai wasn’t wrong, Carolina did show her love in weird ways. She never said it, but she showed it in a thousand different ways. South watched Carolina work with the Reds and Blues every day, watched her interact with the people from Chorus who flew up to the moon to ‘train’, how she took the time to touch and ground the people around her despite her own discomfort with the process.

How she understood that South needed help and care but was too angry and proud to ever ask for it.

“I trust you, Kai, just don’t make her look like a clown.”

“I would never! This gorgeous face can pull all kinds of looks, and I intend to make her look fucking sexy as fuck! Chill, Carolina, I’m not going to mess your other girlfriend’s look up.”

South tried to look up at Kai, confused, but Kai grabbed South’s head and held it in place.

“Don’t move, you’ll ruin my hard work.”

Carolina laughed a little and rubbed her ankle against South’s and asked Kai about her most recent exploits. South just closed her eyes and listened to the women talk.

The color was washed out, her hair blow dried and style, and with a cheeky grin, Kai shoved a mirror into South’s face.

“Well?”

It looked…good.

Her head was covered multiple tones of purples, blues, and reds, in a way that looked like it shouldn’t have worked, but it really did. Dark and bold, her hair felt soft and fell nicely. Honestly, it was too good for the life South lived. Between helmet time and working on trucks, she was sure she wouldn’t do it justice in the long run.

But Carolina looked really happy, and judging by Kai’s bright smile, she was too.

“You like it, right?”

“Don’t push her.”

South smirked.

“She can push me if she wants, you’re the one who told her to boss me around. I like it.”

“Great!” Kai crowed. “We’re gonna get our nails done tonight, no fighting, I brought Donut a new gel kit and he’s dying to use it!”

Carolina stood up and pressed a kiss to Kai’s cheek and praised her for a job well done, before she kiss to South’s cheek as well.

“I’m glad you like it. Kai’s great, you to are going to get along like a house on fire.”

“Uh, I’m not lighting anything on fire.”

South hadn’t expected anything good when she came here, came home, but everything was genuinely better than she expected. Carolina took her hand and kissed the knuckles before idly telling Kai that she hoped they’d also brought decent alcohol because Donut’s wine and cheese hour was dreadful without actual wine to drink.

She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t known how badly she wanted it, but she was so glad she’d come.

[whattaloser]

Why I’m a Leftist

I know I’m probably just some dude who reblogs cool stuff to most of my followers but I’ve got a nice long story/rant about my political beliefs here that I’ve been wanting to write for awhile

I am a leftist first and foremost because I value human life. Everyone matters. No person is inherently more important than another person. Everyone has inherent rights that should not be infringed. People who infringe on other’s rights are morally wrong to do so. In essence my leftism is based on doing what is right. Obviously everyone has their own opinion on what is right but what is vitally important is knowing why your moral code is right. This is why so many people become liberals or conservatives or otherwise rather than leftists. They simply do not know enough about how the world works. There are a lot of reasons they don’t know, not the least of which is intentional covering up history and preventing education. I don’t believe people who aren’t leftists are stupid, but I do believe leftists know more. It’s kinda fucked up but it’s the only way you can explain inconsistencies in other’s values.

My path to leftism was full of cringe. When i was 7 years old Al Gore was running against George Bush for president. I did not know enough to have a real opinion on it but I am happy to say that I wanted Al Gore to win. This thought was based on very little if any logical reason. I basically flipped a coin in my head I think. Or maybe there was some outside influence that I wasn’t aware of, like my older sister who I looked up to might have said she liked Al gore. Either way, from then on I was in favor of democrats and did not like George Bush. When 9/11 happened I remembered thinking how dumb it was that people lined up around the block to get gas. Even as a child I knew that some buildings going down wasn’t going to end the great nation of the United States. In general I thought the United States was a great country. I knew from movies and tv as well as elementary school history that the United States was the most powerful country in the world. 

I recall in Sixth grade my teacher mentioned she liked George Bush because he was against gay marriage. Somehow at the time my opinion was the opposite despite being raised Catholic. I believed in god until I graduated high school and suddenly my desire to be religious slipped away and so did my belief. I do not consider this a great loss. 

Sometime in middle school or early high school I had solidified my opinion that the war in Iraq and Afghanistan was pointless and George Bush was a bad president. I was heavily influenced by movies and somewhat by video games that had imparted plenty of anti-war messages. Talks with my dad about nuclear missiles, watching History channel shows about world war 2, and playing Metal Gear Solid which had explicit nuclear disarmament messages, all informed me on the horrors of war. This was not enough to make me totally anti-military. In high school I wanted to join the military because I thought it was an easy way to get life experience and eventually pay for college. I was attracted to the Marines because of how cool movies like The Rock and video games like Call of Duty made it seem to be a Marine. I thought they were the best of the best. I was simultaneously against war, against veteran worship, and very pro-military. I was indoctrinated by years of government propaganda but also disillusioned by all forms of media including the book All Quiet on the Western Front which was about a soldier becoming disillusioned by witnessing horrors of war and the negative impact it had on everyone in his country. I spoke with a recruiter during my senior year and expressed my desire to be a Marine but I told him I wanted to wait a year after high school so I could get physically fit enough. The recruiter did not care that I was underweight and out of shape. He didn’t even care that I was very enthusiastic about joining, he was still putting on his best salesman demeanor which made me incredibly uneasy. The experience is supposed to pressure people into signing up on the spot, I think they even had forms for me to sign (i can’t really remember though) but I was not ready and was aware enough how I was being manipulated although not entirely cognizant. After that I no longer wanted to be in the military.

I also have to point out that I grew up in an unstable household. My parents were both loving but they were flawed and made mistakes and had problems. My dad was a typical Gen x man’s man. A little bit too emotionally repressed, but actually really good with kids when it came to play time and still is. He worked a lot because my mother couldn’t. My mother has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder as long as I can remember. Her medical bills related to her problems combined with other financially bad decisions by my parents caused my home life to be fraught. I lived in varying degrees of poverty until my parents separated and me and my siblings moved with my mother to her parents’ house away from my father. Prior to moving though, we endured great financial difficulty. We were unable to afford school lunches but could not apply for free or reduced lunches because technically my father made a lot of money, however it was all garnished for medical bills. My father always tells about how he bought a car that had hidden frame damage and when he attempted to sue the dealership for selling a bad car he lost and was garnished for that as well. Despite making over 25 dollars an hour in 1999, my father could not afford school lunches for three kids and couldn’t afford to pay the gas bill. Without going into too much more detail, life sucked and continued to suck until I graduated, at least financially. I still found plenty of joy and it wasn’t always that bad. We still found ways to have good things like video games and we could always rewatch old movies but there’s a lot of psychic weight that comes with being that poor as a child and I’m sure it affects me and my ability to empathize with others who in bad conditions. 

So i watched a lot of movies and documentaries, read a lot of books growing up, discovered internet forums at the age of 11, played video games, moved to a town that had a very large Hispanic population, and I even grew up poor. All of this life experience turned me into a very average liberal upon graduating high school. I was a very optimistic 18 year old. I thought science could save the world. If I was 18 today I would be an average redditor stereotype probably. The point here though is I still wasn’t a leftist. Only vaguely progressive and full of optimism. This is when I got sucked into the anti-feminist pipeline.

I can’t remember what exactly what I had going on in my life but I remember it was around the time of Gamergate. Everyone on the internet, celebrities, and pop culture were saying “if you believe in equality between genders you’re a feminist” an did not like that. And there was a ton of people online to tell me I was right in not liking that. They all said feminism was not necessary anymore because legally you couldn’t discriminate against women and I agreed. Gamergate made it worse for reasons too complicated to get into in this already long post but suffice it say I was “pro Gamergate.” This put me at odds with my closes friends who thought feminism was great and had no qualms with it, and were already embracing the idea of being a “social justice warrior.” Despite reading all kinds of anti-feminist think pieces and reveling in the discourse, I was still very progressive and liberal minded person. Still thought the military was bad, that black people were discriminated against etc. But so many aspects of anti-feminism were appealing to me as a white guy who tried their hardest to do what they’re told is right, had low self esteem, undiagnosed adhd and depression, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what feminism was. Two things got me out of anti-feminism though. The first and most important thing was having friends who were patient with me about it. I didn’t reveal how into anti-feminism I was because I was ashamed but they could sense it and pushed back when they could. The second thing that got me out of it was actually finding feminists online and reading what they had to say, staying away from poorly written clickbait articles that fueled misogynist tirades against feminism. After reading and learning from feminists it finally clicked. Our society is patriarchal and that affects how people interact with each other regardless of what is legal. Many of the complaints of anti-feminism talk about how men have it in society, so how can society be patriarchal. It’s because of patriarchy that men are put in bad positions. Some of the more self aware anti-feminists had retorts against these ideas but they were emotionally charged. There’s still some anti-feminists I have respect for because of how well prepared and logical they were when it came to disputing feminism. But when it came down to the fundamental tenants of feminsim all they could respond with was anger or outright denial of reality. (If you’re like I was and don’t understand how anyone can thing modern feminism is good please feel free to ask me more, I just can’t get into specifics in this long ass post) Anyways, once you understand patriarchy and how it affects an individuals actions then you can start seeing how other institutions and cultural norms can affect an individual. This is basically fundamentals of leftism. I’d say about 90% of my path to leftism was just naturally absorbing cultural and historical information through consumption of media. The most conservative people I know are people who haven’t read very many books or seen very many movies. I’m not saying watching Austin Powers at the age of 10 will make everyone a leftist but constantly recontextualizing the world by learning something new, even if you learned it from some dumb comedy movie, can give you better grounding in a shared reality.  Don’t know how to end this but I want to say when I was a teenager I thought “communism is good in theory but it doesn’t work in practice” and I had almost no historical basis for it other than the vague notion that USSR = bad despite having consumed a massive amount of media. None of it taught me what communism actually was, I didn’t know who Karl Marx was, and I had no clue why communism in the USSR failed. You can know a lot without knowing the truth so if you’re struggling with a loved one who is mind poisoned by conservative keep in mind that they know a lot but they’re missing something important to give clarity. 

This has been my Ted Talk

[kieraswriting]

Virgil’s Second Adventure in the Imagination

More Than The Sum Of Our Parts

Previous  Next

Masterpost

Virgil knew that the door always opened for Roman, but he had never tried to go through by himself before. Mostly because Anxiety couldn’t do much good in the imagination. He pushed at the door, and while it didn’t open, a cat door formed. He went through. 

It was dark, which Virgil guessed made some sense. It was still nighttime after all. He seemed to be in a forest. 

He realized that he hadn’t thought this out very well. He had no idea where Roman might be, and he couldn’t call for him. There might well be other cats that looked like him, so he couldn’t even be sure that Roman would recognize him if he did find him. 

Shadows seemed to be pressing closer to him, and he tried pulling them closer. To his surprise, it worked. Soon he had wrapped himself in a blanket of shadows. He was feeling much better, and had stumbled across a path. He followed the path, hoping that Roman would have done the same. 

••^*^••

Roman was in the most important room his castle. At least, it was the most important in the moment. It was the room in which he created dreams. 

Dreams took time to make, but he loved making them. There were so many wonderful things to consider. The dream tonight was an older one, one that had been saved to repeat. But to make up for that, Roman was determined to make the most spectacular dream he could! 

He had a large pot, and he poured into it enough excitement that a touch more would have made it into panic. He threw in danger, and some of a blend he had made of fantasy elements. With it being a blend, there was more surprise in it. He added ingredients and stirred. It was far too dry. He pulled a bucket up from a well that went right to the core of Thomas. He splashed enough belief into the pot that everything sloshed together. Then he had to cook it until everything dissolved together. 

He added a few dashes of things as the pot heated. Eventually it bubbled up, and he quickly took it off the fire, and poured it into a wooden frame. As it cooled, it crystallized, and each crystal sparkled. 

There was a knock at the door. Roman opened it with a wave of his hand. 

Remy sauntered in, his cup nearly empty. “Your guards held me up again.”

“I’ll speak with them. Are we done for the night?”

“Not yet, but I ran out of dream dust.”

“This one’s nearly done.” Roman smiled down at the frame. 

“Yes, Ma’am, that looks like a good one. I might keep him in bed all morning with this one.”

Roman glowed. “He does have something to do at eleven, though, so maybe not the entire morning.”

There was a loud cracking sound from the frame, indicating that the dream was done. Roman poured the crystals into a large mortar, and ground them into a dust that looked more like glitter. Remy held a bag at the edge for Roman to pour the dust into. 

“Thanks, Babe!”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Remy held out his cup, and Roman snapped, filling it with a cherry almond slushy. Remy sipped, and wrinkled his nose. 

“TBH, you make weird drinks.”

“You know they’re fantastic, that’s why you always want one.”

“See ya, babes,” Remy called over his shoulder as he left. 

Roman wondered if there was enough time to make another dream before Thomas woke up. 

••^*^••

He felt the shadows react just before the hair on his back rose up. Virgil hid underneath a bush, trusting the shadows to keep him hidden. A woman, dressed oddly even for the imagination, burst onto the path, looking all around but especially behind her. 

Suddenly, as if she could see clearly through all the shadows, she looked directly at Virgil. She smirked, and walked up to the side of the bush. Virgil backed out, slowly enough to not leave the meager cover too early, but enough to let him run away if she tried to grab him. But she didn’t. She started mumbling and crouched down, pulling up a hood and looking very much like a stump. 

In the distance, but coming closer very quickly, there was a crashing, as if several people were blundering through the undergrowth. Virgil crouched under the bush again, gathering the shadows as close as he could. The sun was only barely up, so there were still many shadows. 

Three soldiers came running into the path. After some conversation, one followed the path one way, one the other way, and the last continued in the way they had been going previously. 

Once they were gone, the woman stood up, dropping her glamour. She looked at Virgil again, and this time he ran. He was faster than she was, and could weave through the trees and bushes by the side of the path better than she could, but she must have figured out that he was trying to stay near the path, because she chased him without leaving it. She started saying something, but he didn’t pay any attention.

He didn’t dare leave the path completely; getting lost in the imagination was probably the worst case scenario. But the woman was catching up. He was faster, but couldn’t last very long in this form. He ducked and wove around her, but apparent all she needed was to touch him once. Her hand brushed against his tail, and he was frozen. 

How?! He was a side! Some random figment from the imagination shouldn’t be able to immobilize him like this! She picked him up. He tried to claw and scratch and bite, but nothing happened. 

The woman left the path, and walked a ways before finding another. She followed this one for quite a while before reaching the very outskirts of a town. Virgil could see that from the town ran a toad, and at the end of that road he could see a city, with a castle. That’s where Roman would be. Except now he couldn’t get there! He tried again to get free of the whatever. It didn’t work. Then he remembered the way the shadows had attacked Roman. He willed the shadows to cover the woman’s eyes. 

He couldn’t turn his head to see, but it must have worked because she stopped. She lit some kind of flame in her palm, which dissolved most of the shadows that still clung to Virgil. 

She took him into a house, which was more of a hut, and held him so that he could see what she was doing as she slit her palm, and spread the blood on the windowsill and the floor in front of the door. Then she went to pet his head. Virgil cringed back, and was surprised that he actually could. He squirmed down, and tried to escape, but the blood made some kind of barrier that he couldn’t cross. 

He spun back to her, hissing. 

“Aren’t you angry? How cute. You know, I was surprised to see you again. Did the Prince leave you alone?”

Virgil hissed again, all his fur sticking up. If he thought it would do any good, he would have attacked her. 

“You have more transformation magic than he does. Although, I’ve always been surprised he had any at all, he never uses it.” She laughed. “Still confused? Does this help?” She waved a hand over her face, and revealed the face of the DragonWitch. “See, I’m too easily recognizable. I have to have extra transformation magic if I want to be near people. Though, I will say, I think that this identity won’t last much longer.”

Virgil just hissed. He didn’t care about her problems. 

“I am curious though, about the shadows. You’re barely using any magic on them, but you have a better hold than I ever did.” She waited a few moments, as if expecting an answer. “Can’t you speak like this?”

When Virgil didn’t answer, she got up and started mixing together powders and liquids. She took down a hunk of dried meat that was hanging from the ceiling, and coated it with the mixture before cooking it. She started eating it, but then pulled a piece off and held it out to Virgil. He had no way of knowing it wasn’t poisoned, except that she had eaten some first, but she might have just planned to eat an antidote as well. 

In the end, his stomach decided to pain him for seeing the food and not eating it, and he took the meat from her hand. It was very small, and a minute later she held out another piece. He tried to take it, but she held it above his head. He hissed his displeasure, but she just smirked and held it higher. 

“Jump, kitty.”

Oh no. He was not going to do anything for someone calling him kitty. “Old hag.” Virgil recoiled. He had spoken out loud. It was heavily accented, and didn’t sound like his own voice at all, but it was speech. 

“Now you can tell me. How do you control shadows so easily?”

“What makes you think I would ever tell you?”

She leaned forward. “I have you trapped, and I’m sure you’d like to know how to turn human again.”

“I already know. It wears off after a few days.”

“You don’t know. You merely assume. It is not a spell that adds something to you, it’s one that takes away. And gives to me, I might add.”

Virgil just hissed. 

“And as such, it won’t really wear off, you’ll just generate more power, and when you have enough, you can turn yourself back. If you tried, you might be able to do it now.”

She stood and went outside with the pan she had cooked the meat in. Virgil didn’t know if he believed her, but he still tried to turn back to usual. It worked. It was so much better. He first checked on Thomas, but he seemed to be fine. Then he tried to sink out, but wasn’t able. The door opened and the DragonWitch leaned against the frame. 

“You’re held inside with a bloodseal. Now the nice thing is, while I’m out here, you can’t get to me, but I can get to you. So, if you want to stay human, you have to tell me how to control shadows easily.” She was already charging up the spell she had hit him with the last time. 

Virgil glared at her. “I’m never going to help you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Virgil ducked, but the spell still hit him, knocking him out. 

••^*^••

“Has anyone seen Virgil?” Patton asked. “He didn’t come down for breakfast, and he wasn’t in his room when I checked.”

“No, I haven’t seen him since last night.” Logan said, looking up. 

“I haven’t either.” Privately, Roman wondered if, now that he wasn’t so tired and hungry, Virgil had been embarrassed and gone to hide. 

“I don’t want him to get hurt. Should we look for him?” Patton said, worry plain on his face. 

“Virgil is very capable of taking care of himself.” Logan said. “It’s very possible that he wanted time alone. I would suggest that we wait. If he’s still missing by dinner time, then it would be appropriate to begin searching for him.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up once he gets hungry anyway,” Roman said in support. 

Patton still looked worried. “Sometimes he doesn’t though, I don’t want him to think that we don’t care about him just because he’s a cat right now.”

“But if we bother him now, we might be invading his privacy, and he might think that we don’t trust him.” Roman countered, still thinking of how much he would hate if any of them saw him while he was stuck in an animal form. 

“I guess…”

••^*^••

Virgil woke when someone started banging on the door. The DragonWitch was nowhere to be seen. A moment later the door was broken down and several soldiers burst in. Virgil hid back in a corner, pulling a few shadows surreptitiously to cover him. 

“She must be here.” One of the soldiers said. “Search everything. She can shift, so look for anything suspicious.”

Soldiers were ransacking the place, spilling powders and smashing bottles. Virgil backed further into the corner. But it was only a matter of time before they found him. 

The one who had spoken, who seemed to be the leader, picked him up by the fur on the back of his neck. 

“You really should have picked something better, Witch. A black cat? And you practically stink of magic.”

“You’re the one that stinks,” Virgil said, not realizing that he was still able to say it out loud. 

The soldier frowned deeper, and tightened his grip. Moments later, Virgil was shoved into a saddle bag and shaken nearly to death over the next hour. 

The clopping hooves got louder, as if they were on stone rather than dirt. Virgil hoped that they were in the castle. Even as a prisoner, it was closer to where Roman probably was. At this point, having found the DragonWitch, but not Roman, Virgil no longer believed that Roman was in danger. He had just gotten anxious and paranoid over nothing again, and dug himself over his head in trouble. At this point, he’d be taken to prison, and either escape and make his way upward, or Roman would come down to deal with the ‘witch’. Either way, he’d see Roman, who would let him out and take him home. 

Except… 

What if he didn’t? 

What if Roman was mad at him for coming into the imagination without asking? What if the witch did something to him and Roman couldn’t recognize him anymore? What if he couldn’t escape and the guards never told Roman he was here?

“Here, we caught the witch. She’s turned herself into a cat to hide. I’ll inform the prince, if you’ll take her down to the dungeon.”

A shudder ran through Virgil at the word dungeon. He knew it was Roman that made it, and Roman didn’t exactly torture people for fun, but he wasn’t above running a villain through with his sword. Which meant that his guards likely took the same view. 

He was handed over, bag and all, with no chance for escape. 

He was carried a ways, and then down stairs, and down more stairs, and then more stairs. The farther down they went, the colder it was. The tie on the front of the bag that had held it closed was undone, and he was dumped out onto the ground. Immediately the door was closed. It was dark, but his eyes were used to the inside of a bag and it didn’t take him long to see where he was. 

The cell would have been small for a human, but it was large to him. The walls were solid, rather than bars, and the only light came from a grating up on the door. From there came a faint, flickery yellow light, probably from a torch somewhere in the hallway. The cell was cold, and the only things in it were a bucket and a pile of very old straw topped with a blanket. Virgil climbed onto the blanket, curled up as tightly as he could, drew up the shadows over him, and went to sleep. 

••^*^••

“I’m really worried now! We should have looked for him earlier!”

“Don’t worry, Padre, there are still places we can look.”

“I suggest that the two of you search the memory archives, and I’ll ask the Others.” Logan said. 

“You can’t go confront Dark Sides by yourself!” Roman protested. 

“I can. I can handle talking with them more safely than either of you can. On the other hand, the memory archives are large, and will take some time to search.”

Patton rushed into Logan, hugging him tightly. “You have to promise me you’ll come back safely.”

“Of course, Patton.” 

Roman stuck out his hand. “We’ll meet back here at breakfast tomorrow at the latest.”

Logan took his hand and nodded. As he let go, Roman conjured him a sword. 

“Roman, I appreciate the gesture, but I do not require a sword. Nor do I know how to use one effectively.”

Logan waved away the sword. “I will be back here by tomorrow morning. If Virgil is with the others, I’ll bring him back with me.”

Then he sunk out.

••^*^••

It was closer to lunchtime when they met up the next day. Logan brought Deceit with him. 

“Virgil is with me or Remus, but everyone else is being very clear and easy to understand. He may not be with one of them.”

“We’ll come with you. If it’s all of us we can even break in if we need to.” Patton said, his eyes bright with passion. 

Roman nodded. “I just came back from checking his room again. He’s definitely not there, and I couldn’t see any signs of anyone going into the subconscious.”

“Did you check the imagination?” Logan asked. 

Roman shook his head. “He’s never once gone into the imagination on his own. And it’s huge. If we don’t find him with the D-“ he glanced at Deceit and stopped himself. “With the others, then I’ll check the imagination next.”

“Let’s go!” Patton said, already sinking out. 

••^*^••

Virgil was starving. And cold. And getting more and more worried that he would never get out. He had no idea how long he had been down here, but it seemed to stretch on endlessly. 

There was a constant scratching sound. Or sounds. Virgil suspected that the dungeon had rats. But, so far none of them had come into his cell. He wished one would. Except he wasn’t positive he had enough strength to kill a large one. 

At least he didn’t have to worry about Thomas. As a cat, he couldn’t tell as easily what Thomas was doing or saying, and in the ‘witch-proof’ cell he could tell even less. But just sitting still and shivering gave him plenty of time to pay attention. Thomas had been fine. He was taking a few days to just work on video editing that had been waiting for too long. 

The scratching came closer. Virgil froze. He forced himself to stop shivering, and to barely even breathe. He wasn’t a stranger to eating rats. Remus in particular had forced him into it more than once. He could see the tip of a nose come out of a crack. It was followed carefully by a head, and then a body. 

Virgil waited until it had left the wall entirely to pounce. It was a smallish rat, which the hungry side of him resented, but that made it easier to kill. Food. Finally. 

••^*^••

“At this point, he should be human again,” Roman said. 

“At least, as human as any of us are,” Logan conceded. 

“We still have to check the imagination,” Patton said, pacing. “And if we can’t find him there I’m going to Thomas.”

“We can’t bother him with something like this,” Logan protested. “Not when he isn’t having any adverse effects.”

“I don’t care. Virgil has never been missing so long. He’s always been in his room, or with the dark sides, or somewhere!” Patton was getting choked up, and Roman hugged him. 

“We can check the imagination. I’ll mobilize all my troops, and we’ll find him.” Roman promised. “We’ll find him.”

••^*^••

Virgil was not going to wait around for Roman any more. He had finally been able to turn back human again, and had stuck out his hand through the grating to get the attention of the guard. It had taken a long time, and a heated argument, but he had finally convinced the guard that, having a human body, and a human stomach, he ought to be given something to eat. He gathered all the shadows he could, which was more than ever before, and then waited. 

As soon as the door had opened an inch he sent all the shadows against the guard and stuck his hand through the gap. The guard reeled back in confusion, and Virgil was able to grab him and throw him into the cell. He pocketed the keys, and stopped to scarf down as much food as he could quickly. Then he started to make his way upstairs. 

••^*^••

“I want everyone. Everyone. To be looking for this man. Even the prison guards.” Roman said. 

“Of course.” The captain said, saluting. “While you were gone, we caught the witch—“

“I don’t care!” Roman yelled. He took a deep breath. “I apologize. Finding this man comes first. After that I will hear your report.”

“Yes, Sire.” The captain hurried to carry out his orders. 

Patton and Logan had been given escorts and gone to ask around in villages. Roman paced. He needed to stay here to receive the message that Virgil had been found. If he was brought here, but there was no one to meet him, it would waste time and energy. 

“Sire?” A servant poked his head in the door. 

“Yes?”

“There’s a commotion from the prison.”

“I’ll come see. Thank you.”

If there was a prison escape, or if the guards were upset at having to go out and search… Roman wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but no one was going to like it. 

He stomped down the stairs, pulling out his sword. 

When he got down to the courtyard, the door to the prison was a writhing mass of people and cries of pain. 

“Get out of my way!” Roman boomed. 

Guards started backing away, and clearing people away. Soon it was clear that there was only one knot of people left. 

“What’s going on?!” Roman yelled above the sounds of fighting. 

“Roman?” 

Roman knew that voice anywhere. “Virgil! All of you stop now!”

The guards stopped and backed away. Virgil had almost been forced to the ground, and was covered in dirt and blood, but he jumped up as soon as the guards let go of him. 

“Virgil!” Roman rushed to hug him. “What happened?! Where have been been? We’ve been searching for days!”

“I was stuck in your dungeon. What, do you keep witches forever without a trial?”

“What? No. Never mind. I’ll get word to Patton and Logan. You’ll tell all of us. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Me too.”

••^*^••

After cleaning up, getting first aid, and having his hoodie returned to him, Virgil found himself at a large table Roman had made at the border of the imagination, where he told his whole story. Deceit and Remus insisted on hearing as well, since they had helped look for him. 

“This can never happen again.” Patton announced. 

“I agree.” Roman said. “I’m going to make each of you a place in the imagination, and I’ll put in phones so that if I’m ever in the imagination I can be reached immediately. I’ll also make sure that all of my subjects know who you are, so that nothing like this happens again.”

“In addition, it may prove useful to have a public schedule, so that each of us can anticipate where the others will be at a given time.” Logan suggested. 

“Honestly, I’m still shocked that you guys were looking for me so long.”

“We will always look for you, kiddo!” Patton said, getting up to give Virgil a hug for the fifteenth time. He gave a meaningful stare to the others, and soon they were all in a group hug, broke up once Remus’s smell overwhelmed them. 

[howling-harpy]

Perfect storm

Pairing: Winters/Speirs Rating: T Word count: 5470

Summary: Dick reluctantly takes a pass alone to Paris and learns that sometimes someone most unlikely can become the right one at the right time in the right place.

*

If a trip to Paris was supposed to be relaxing, it wasn’t working. Nix’s thought had been nice, and maybe it worked for him, but Dick couldn’t say he liked Paris much. At least, not now. It was too noisy and too crowded, and if he had to choose the people to be crowded by, he’d choose his men over anyone else a thousand times. But it was forty-eight hours, a real privilege not everybody got, and so Dick was trying to make the most of it. He already treaded going back to base and seeing Nix welcoming him with a smirk and asking, “Well? How was it?”

He'd know that nothing exciting had happened, Dick just wasn’t that kind of a person and Nix knew that already, but still he would ask, and Dick would have to awkwardly figure out what to say without sounding ungrateful. He didn’t want to think about it now, he’d save that for when the time came. Now he simply wandered the streets, just walked ahead until the air turned cool and his breath started to come easily. He ended up on the underground, traveling back to his hotel late in the evening. The rhythmic rattle of the tracks underneath and the rocking of the train lulled him into deep thought, and the constant swaying of the car felt like it was shaking jammed thoughts in his head loose. He stared out of the window into the darkness and listened to the clang clang clang of the tracks, metal against metal, and his thoughts shifted back to Holland. He remembered charging through the open field, the earth soft and muddy under his boots, his own footsteps like thunder in his ears. He remembered standing on that dike so clearly he could smell the wet grass, mud and his own sweat, and he looked at that soldier, knelt down, unarmed and wearing German green. It was a boy, shockingly young, the uniform jacket ill-fitting on his coltish frame. He didn’t even look scared, just surprised and confused when he looked up at Dick like he couldn’t make sense of him being there. And then Dick squeezed the trigger, felt the recoil of his rifle, felt a sting in his ears at the noise, and the boy went down. Dick kept shooting. He didn’t think, just kept firing, there were too many targets to choose from, he felt his own adrenaline coursing and heard his company reaching his side. He had forgotten about the boy quickly, hadn’t thought about him even right after, but for some reason he was on his mind now. There was a boy on the train too, just as young, just as wide-eyed and just as soft-looking. To Dick, they looked exactly the same, dead boys staring back at him with too young eyes, bright for a moment and no more. Dick couldn’t look at him without feeling a heavy, sharp feeling settling in his chest. The rest of the way from the station to the hotel he was staying at felt longer than the many miles he had already walked even though it was just a few blocks. He dragged his feet and felt a horrible, deep exhaustion that he feared he wouldn’t be able to shake now that it had settled over him. In the moment he felt so heartbreakingly lonely he almost wanted to cry. He didn’t want to be alone in Paris, he wanted to be with Nix wherever he was right now. He just wanted him to be there, that would be enough. “Captain Winters?” someone called, and Dick felt his heart skipping. Dick turned to a bar he was just passing and saw Nix. His heart skipped again almost painfully in joy, but it didn’t make any sense – Nix wasn’t here, he was back at the base probably avoiding his many responsibilities, how could he be here? Dick blinked, took another look, and realized that it wasn’t Nix. The dark hair, handsome face and the paratrooper’s uniform had fooled his lonely heart, and the man whom he was facing wasn’t Nix but Lieutenant Ronald Speirs from Dog Company. “Ah, hello, Lieutenant,” Dick greeted mildly. Speirs had stepped out of a bar Dick had been passing, apparently to have a cigarette in peace since he had one between his lips, but now that he was curiously regarding Dick he didn’t reach to light it. He looked like he wanted to talk more than the passing greeting, and with a hint of annoyance Dick stopped. “I didn’t know you were on leave too,” Speirs said. Dick didn’t see why he would have and shrugged. “This was pushed on me. I’d rather be doing something useful.” Speirs nodded with understanding, the unlit cigarette still between his lips. “Ah, that makes more sense. Have you enjoyed your stay so far at all?” “It’s been alright.” “You alone, or…?” Dick frowned slightly. In his opinion the answer was obvious; he wouldn’t have been walking the streets alone if he had company, but his hesitance seemed to only raise more questions for Speirs, who stepped further from the door and closer to Dick. “I was just wondering, since you’re out this late and just walking,” he said, drawing out the sentence for a reason Dick couldn’t begin to guess. “I came alone, too, if that’s the case,” Speirs added with a tilt of his head. Dick didn’t know how to respond. He had a feeling he was being asked something more than it seemed, but he couldn’t read Speirs. He did remember him well from the OCS as one of the top soldiers, but he couldn’t say he had learned to know him very well. The man was still somehow unreadable to Dick, and despite having fought alongside him, he didn’t feel any closer to him. “I am alone, yes. Do you have a place to stay?” Dick asked, guessing that was what Speirs was trying to ask him. A strikingly warm smile spread of Speirs’ face, and with a start Dick realized it made him not only more handsome but approachable. Suddenly, he decided he wouldn’t mind company at all. “Actually no, I don’t,” Speirs said like it was a surprise that it came up. For the first time during the whole conversation, Dick smiled back. “I happen to have actually too much room. Would you like to share?” There was a curious gleam in Speirs’ eyes. “I’d like that.” They walked together. Speirs tossed his cigarette away when he hurried to join Dick, who showed the way back to the hotel. He had to admit that as annoyed as he had been about being spotted like this, Speirs’ company was actually comfortable. They arrived at the hotel far quicker than Dick thought they would have, and Speirs followed him upstairs into his room without another word. When he closed the door behind him, it occurred to Dick that he had never been alone with Speirs before. The first thing Speirs did was to kick his boots off. He looked around the room and gave an appreciative nod. “A nice room you’ve got,” he said. Dick felt awkward about it. Three-room-suite for one person was definitely too much. “Thanks. Nix picked it for me.” “And didn’t come with you?” Speirs asked, looking far too surprised. For some reason, Dick felt embarrassed. Not by being alone or having been tricked to take leave, but by the casual intensity of Speirs’ look and tone. Dick might not have been sure if he liked Speirs, but Speirs certainly had gotten comfortable around him quickly. It even made Dick feel a bit bad for being so reserved and on guard around someone who seemed to simply enjoy his company. Still, kindness didn’t mix seamlessly with Ron Speirs, and Dick couldn’t shake the feeling that they were here for some other reason than the obvious one. He felt a funny tingle in his nape. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. Speirs’ brows shot up. “Do you have something good?” Dick heard the real question there and smirked. “There was a bottle of brandy here when I arrived, compliments of the house, I think. I didn’t ask for it, yet here it is. Might as well give it to someone who wants it rather than waste it.” Speirs smiled again, a twinkle in his green eyes. “A splendid point. I’d like a drink, thank you.” Dick went over to the cabinet that had a bar and a selection of fine glasses behind its stained-glass doors, took out the crystal bottle and a matching glass, then poured a drink for Speirs, guessing the amount. It was a polite thing to do, but also gave Dick something to occupy himself with and bought him time to think. He glanced to Speirs, who was walking around the large sitting room and admiring the fine furniture at leisure pace, and wondered about him. This Speirs was once again different to the versions Dick had been acquainted with. Speirs back in OCS had been raw material, eager and competitive, tough but still green. Speirs in combat had been ferocious, covered in grime, and more than a little mad. This Speirs, Speirs on leave in Paris, was something else entirely, or perhaps a polished mirror of his combat self; Dick could see the ferocity underneath the surface, and the line of his shoulders and his general demeanour were pure military confidence, but he was also calm, clean and sociable. Something about his clean face, neatly combed hair and dress greens had softened him just a bit, as had his smile. There was a strange ambience in the room. Dick didn’t know what to do, so he elected to sit down on the nearest armchair after handing Ron his drink. Ron kept watching him even when he drank, and Dick had the strangest urge to put on some music. He didn’t, and the dim room was quiet for several long minutes. The single warm lamp didn’t illuminate much, but Speirs didn’t seem to mind. He circled the room slowly as he sipped his drink, his hands idly touching the tabletops and the windowsill, and his feet made almost no sound on the oriental rug on the floor. Finally Speirs made it to the chair where Dick was sitting, and for a moment Dick thought that he was going to reach for the brandy bottle on the delicate little table next to it to take another drink, but instead he sat down on the footstool before the chair. Dick swallowed. Speirs was very close, their legs pressed against each other in the narrow space between the chair and the stool, and even with a brandy glass in hand and in uniform, sitting on a low stool Speirs looked boyish. “I always wondered about you,” Speirs said. Dick didn’t understand, but he had a creeping feeling he should. “About what?” “Since OCS. I just saw you and wondered, if… You know,” Speirs said in a quiet, intimate tone that shocked Dick. Earlier this evening he hadn’t thought he and Speirs knew each other very well and he certainly wouldn’t have called them friends, but here he was, sitting with him of all people with their legs tangled together and speaking in low tones. It was comfortable, he noted. Perhaps it was his loneliness and the cold thoughts from before, but Speirs didn’t seem at all reserved, and that made Dick relax into it and accept the warmth. Dick slumped a bit forward on the chair and leaned his elbows on his knees. Before he had been perching rigidly on the edge of the seat, but now he just leaned closer to Ron. “What did you wonder about?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Ron watched his smile for a moment before looking him in the eye again. “I wondered if you walk the twilight zone as well. You do, don’t you?” Dick tilted his head at the phrase. It wasn’t familiar and he suspected it was Ron’s original. It was an oddly beautiful one too and didn’t fit the image he had of Ron, but at the same time something warm bloomed inside his chest. Yes, he could deal being called that. Dick smiled, and there was a silent understanding in Ron’s eyes when he returned it. “What where you looking for on the streets?” Ron asked, tilting his glass and sloshing the last drop of brandy around. “Oh! Not – Um, not that,” Dick said and thought rapidly back to their encounter before the bar. He was slightly impressed how quickly Ron had read him and jumped on the chance. “I was trying to walk the stress off, that’s all.” “That’s what the leave is for,” Ron said. There was something gentle in his tone, and Dick wondered about that. He had already heard a few stories about Ron and knew him to be a wild thing in combat, something he didn’t relate to, but now he considered if Ron’s ability to let go of certain higher values also meant that he was uncaring towards judging others for small sins. Dick laced his fingers together, wrapped his arms around his knees and wondered if he could tell Ron. He flicked his gaze over the man again, and Ron just craned his neck and quirked a brow back at him when he was inspected. He seemed comfortable, not at all intimidated before him or awkward like differences in rank often meant, but he wasn’t a familiar shadow or a missing piece that had fallen into place like Nix was. Ron was something completely new, and in an odd way a kindred spirit. Almost like a mirror image, similar but still the opposite. Dick hadn’t even noticed when their legs had properly tangled in the narrow space they had at first shared tensely. “Some thoughts come back to me,��� Dick muttered. “At times, I remember combat and feel like it just happened a second ago, and I feel like I’ve just attacked for a mile. I’m afraid I’ve done things I can’t forgive myself for.” He stared at the intricate designs woven into the rug by his feet when he said it, but when he was finished talking, he looked up to Ron again. Ron was leaning on his knees as well and reaching towards Dick. There was a steady, open look in his eyes. “I get that too,” he said. “But I don’t get memories, I just feel cold and alone. It feels like I’ve already judged myself and that no one can reach me ever again.” Dick had nothing to say, he just lowered his eyes. “Is that why you were so eager to come with me?” Ron tilted his head, maybe thoughtful, maybe trying to catch Dick’s eye. “Perhaps,” he allowed, but not without a sly quip in his tone. “Maybe I have a thing for tough but kind wholly good guys who complement my darker side.” Dick let out a dry laugh. He knew he was being played, but it was still a nice thing to hear. “I’m not so sure I’m the soft beau you’re looking for.” “Perhaps not,” Ron admitted lightly, “but you’re still good. And this is Paris after all. It would be wrong not to fan some sort of a flame up here.” They were so close that their knees were pressed together, and one of Ron’s hands that was resting on his knee was slowly creeping over to Dick. He turned to watch Ron’s fingers reach out, slow but bold, the index one brushing against his knee, climbing on and pulling the rest along. It was a light touch, a gentle little pet that kept to the knee for a few strokes before slowly moving up his thigh, careful like he didn’t want to spook him. Dick looked down at the hand when it stroked his thigh over his crisp uniform trousers and marvelled at how tender the touch was. It was once again something he wouldn’t have thought of Ron before, but it seemed that the hotel room would be keeping more than a few secrets, so it was alright. When he looked up, he saw Ron looking back like he had been waiting for him. It was a curious, warm look that flicked over his face, and Dick knew Ron was trying to read him, perhaps searching for a permission. Dick felt like he had downed a whole cup of hot chocolate with all the sweet warmth suddenly flowing through him and warming the very core of his chest. He leaned forward an inch, tilted his head a little, and something softened in Ron’s eyes before he leaned towards him the rest of the way. It was a heartachingly sweet kiss. Dick heard Ron take a deep breath before sealing his lips over his, and they pressed together close enough for Dick to feel the light scratch of stubble. He heard Ron dropping the glass on the rug and felt him inching closer on the stool, his lips were so much softer than Dick could have ever imagined, plush and warm, and all the while his hand petted his thigh. When the kiss ended, Ron didn’t lean back at all but pressed closer. Dick didn’t open his eyes but leaned towards the inviting heat that was Ron’s embrace. Ron had nearly climbed on the chair with him with one hand stroking the inseam on his trousers and other grasping the armrest. Ron placed another tender kiss on Dick’s lips before pressing closer, nuzzling his cheek and taking a deep breath like he wanted to enjoy him with every sense. “You know what would help?” Ron muttered idly. “Hm?” “A hot bath. It just might make you feel like a civilized human being again.” Dick sighed a laugh and leaned against Ron. “Sounds wonderful.” Ron turned his head and searched for Dick’s mouth again, took him into a kiss for a few long, drawn out seconds before gently leaning back. “I’ll draw you a bath then,” he said, brushed his fingers against Dick’s chin and then regrettably stepped back. When Ron got up and walked to the bathroom, Dick let out a shuddering sigh and collapsed into the chair. Its cushions were soft enough to sink into, and he let the velvet cosiness hold him. The sound of running water came from the other room, muffled by the wall but still clear. Dick lazed in the chair and stared up into the ceiling, following the ornate decorations with his eyes as well as he could in the dim light. It felt so strange to think that this city had seen war and faced occupation for years, and still beautiful things like these had survived it. Dick was lost in his thoughts and only came out when Ron touched his arm. He had appeared back from the bathroom and was leaning over Dick with his arm draped over the back of the chair. He was smiling down at him. “Your bath’s ready. Come on.” Dick stood up from the chair, and once he was up, Ron started to lead the way to the bathroom. Dick followed him barely a step behind. The bathroom was a small but beautiful one with cool tile floors and an ornate, oval mirror over a porcelain sink. The bathtub was clearly a recent addition in the middle of the room, now full of steaming hot water. There was a low rack with towels on it by the foot of the bath, and Ron picked one of them up and handed it to Dick. It was large, soft and heavy in his hands, much thicker than an army towel, and Dick sank his fingers into the fabric with deep satisfaction. For a moment he regarded Ron, who looked back with a pleasant, expecting expression. It was warm in the room because of the bath, and the steam gathered like morning mist around. Ron moved first and pulled the top button of his jacket open. Then the next one, then the next one and the next one until he could drop his jacket on the floor. Dick followed his example, shedding a layer after layer of his uniform and feeling lighter by each article. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stripped before other men before, but something about the privacy made him shy, so he held the towel to his chest the entire time, hiding behind it. Ron didn’t strip all the way, just lost his shirt and socks, then pulled a small chair from underneath the sink next to the tub and sat down. He leaned on the side of the tub and stretched out his legs, getting really comfortable on his spot, and then looked up to Dick still clutching his towel, bare feet cold on the floor. There was a latent charge in the air, something that made the blood in Dick’s veins buzz in a way that was remarkably pleasant and exciting. The pale steam spiralling in the room felt like a curtain that protected his modesty even though it certainly didn’t, and letting the towel fall was suddenly easy. Ron tilted his head, and Dick felt his green eyes roaming his body. He stepped into the tub, slowly sinking into the hot water that welcomed him into its steaming hot depths, and he could practically feel his skin turning red. The water embraced him completely. The slight burn was nothing but welcome, and Dick sank down all the way down to his neck letting out a deep, worn out sigh and let his head rest on the side. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ron said quietly to him. Dick opened his eyes and looked at the man leaning on the tub, resting his chin on the back of his hand. He smiled. “Yes, it does,” he answered. Ron blinked slowly resembling an affectionate cat, and his hand slipped to let his fingers sink into the water. “Can I ask you something?” Dick turned and curled in the bath so that he could rest his head on the side closer to Ron. “Sure.” “You wanted to come here with Nixon, didn’t you?” Ron asked, his fingers stirring the water. Dick could feel the ripples in the water on his body like a promise of something to come. There was no reason for pretence or lies here, and Dick gave a timid smile and half a shrug. “I would have liked to, yes.” Ron peered at him curiously. The steam had undone his neat hair, causing it to fluff up and curl, and a strand of it had fallen over his forehead. He looked younger like that, wearing only his trousers and undershirt and with his dark hair damp and out of place. “You’d like him here with you in this room. You wouldn’t have gone out at all if Nixon were with you,” Ron stated. It was too confident to be a question, and Dick felt completely seen. He thanked the hot water for already flushing his skin all over. He didn’t answer, just nodded against the side of the tub. Ron nodded back. “You have a thing for bad boys, huh?” he joked. Dick frowned. “No, not really,” he said, “You’re a chance meeting, and Nix is honourable and good, just a little wild sometimes.” Ron raised his brows at him and was quiet long enough for Dick to get that he didn’t agree. But instead of arguing, Ron just sighed. “You’ve got it bad, I see.” Dick sank deeper into the water. Loneliness threatened to creep over him again. “Yeah,” he admitted even when it made his insides ache. Foolish and hopeless, he already knew. He didn’t say anything more, but Ron seemed to sense it in him anyway, because he reached out to sink his fingers into Dick’s damp hair and leaned closer to kiss him again. It was fast becoming all too natural and easy to kiss Ron, even when it was thrillingly intimate like that, naked in the bath with Ron so close to him, half stripped down himself and swaying towards him like some unseen power was pulling him in. With their hands in each other’s hair they just kissed for a while, lazy and languid in the damp heat of the bathroom. It was Ron who pulled back again but only a fraction of an inch, and his fingers stayed tangled in Dick’s hair where it grew longer. “Let me wash your hair for you?” Ron asked so gently it was almost a plea, muttered against Dick’s cheek. The request filled Dick with such warmth so fast he had to gasp for breath. He pressed his cheek against Ron’s. “Sure.” Ron pulled his chair to the head of the tub, and Dick lay back again and closed his eyes. Ron used the unscented, simple soap the hotel provided and spent way too long washing Dick’s hair with it. It was nothing like the army efficiency when your shower lasts five minutes top, this was a slow, affectionate affair that made that warmth inside Dick’s chest wind up and ache. Ron dipped the soap in the water and rubbed it between his hands before combing the foam into Dick’s hair. Again and again he ran his fingers through strands of hair, slow and thorough until he was satisfied with his work. The soap bar was placed back onto its little plate somewhere, but Dick didn’t pay it any mind. Ron’s hands were back in his hair massaging slow circles into his scalp and making a deeply satisfying tingle spread all over Dick’s head and the back of his neck. Ron kept massaging all over, little by little covering every inch of his scalp, then moved on to rub the soap into his hair by one small strand at time. It felt like he wanted to do more than just wash, he wanted to care for him and make sure every last speck of dirt was gone, even those that couldn’t be touched upon with simple soap and water. Ron cupped his hands and ran water on top of Dick’s head. Instinctively Dick slumped down and tilted his head back to make it easier, and Ron just kept patiently bringing palmful after palmful of warm water on his hair while combing through it with his fingers until every last bubble of soap was gone. Dick felt utterly comfortable and relaxed. He lay absolutely boneless in the bottom of the tub, stirring only when he felt his towel on his hair. Ron patted his hair before properly towelling it, first ruffling it and then firmly petting it back from Dick’s forehead. Dick knew it was time to get up, and reluctantly he pulled his sluggish limbs under him. Ron helped him out of the bath and wrapped him in the towel. Nothing remained of Dick’s earlier shyness like it had been washed away with all the sweat, stress, and lingering fear. He felt pure and strong again, and civilized enough to desire touch and warmth. Ron must have seen it in his eyes, because he pulled him by the towel against him. He relaxed into the embrace and wrapped his arms around Ron, letting him carry his weight. Ron was steady and pressed his hands to his hips and his lips to his neck. “Your clothes will get wet,” Dick commented idly. “I’ll just take them off, then,” Ron replied against his neck. “Good,” Dick sighed and pressed closer. He felt the last droplets of bathwater running down his spine, and Ron’s fingers caught them on their way up. “But not here.” Dick huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no. Come, let’s go to bed,” he said and started to pull him with him from the bathroom. The floorboards and the rug were warm compared to the cool tiles of the bathroom. The room felt smaller now that they were pressed together and moving as one, and before Dick had the time to gather even one coherent thought in his head they were already by the bed and Ron tipped them over on it. They landed in the middle of fresh sheets and thick covers on their sides. The bed was softer and warmer than anything Dick could remember, and it felt unnatural to the soldier in him. But perhaps that was good, because something truly strange and uncharacteristic was about to take place there, something he didn’t think he could allow anything like this as a soldier on duty. He kicked the towel off the bed, then reached over to relieve Ron of his white undershirt and trousers. There was a bubbly, giddy feeling growing in Dick’s gut, and it made him both smile and blush. “This is my first time, you know,” he confessed. He didn’t know what compelled him to say it, perhaps he was just surprised that it was happening without planning it at all. Ron pulled back enough to quirk a brow at him but didn’t look surprised or off-put, then leaned in to give him a kiss, his hand cupping his face before slipping down his neck and chest. “I’m honored, then,” he said with feeling. “Are you nervous?” Dick thought about it. He wondered if he ought to be, but there was nothing alien or scary about lying in bed with his arms around Ron, who seemed to take this as a challenge to rise to if anything. The thought made Dick laugh quietly. “I suppose not,” he said, studying Ron’s green eyes that were beginning to darken and gleam with what must have been desire. “Good,” Ron purred, kicking the rest of his clothes off the bed and crawling closer. “There’s no need to be. I’m always kind. We can just take it slow and see where it takes us.” It turned out the night took them everywhere, all the way, every way. It was nearly three in the morning when they finally tired and just lay in the bed half under the covers but still too hot to want to fully crawl beneath them to sleep, both pleasantly sore and thoroughly loved. Dick pulled Ron to his side and let him rest his head on his chest, while Ron absently drew spirals on Dick’s belly and thigh.   “You know…” Dick said, “you’re not at all like I thought you’d be.” Ron chuckled like he already knew what Dick meant. “How so?” he asked, low-key playful. He was tracing a figure eight in the dip by Dick’s pelvic bone. “I don’t know,” Dick replied, “You’re such a rough and tough soldier and you have a temperament. I never would have guessed this is what you’re like in bed.” “Like what?” Ron asked, now clearly teasing. Dick didn’t have to look to know that the man was grinning, obviously pleased at everything he was hearing. “Like you are,” Dick said, refusing to be toyed with. “Like a lover, you mean,” Ron specified for him. “Like each of my men are precious to me and not interchangeable lays.” Dick nudged him and heard an honest-to-god snigger. “Each of your men, you say, huh?” he asked and couldn’t help wondering how many men Ron had loved for a night, and how many of them were in service with them. “Oh yes. This is why I love the army,” Ron said in a low tone, drawing out the words like he was lost in pleasant memories, which he most likely was. “I plan to find one man to take home with me for good.” “One?” Dick asked. ���Yes, one. One who is gentle, strong and faithful and who loves me. One to have and hold for the rest of my days,” Ron mused, and his grinning, purring voice turned gentle again, as did his hand that had only been resting on Dick’s thigh for a while now. Ron stroked him with his fingers like he was tracing an oath on his skin. “Sounds wonderful,” Dick said. “Yes. If I can do that, whatever else has happened to me doesn’t matter.” Ron said it like a conviction, unwavering in his faith in it. Dick stroked his hair. “I’d like that too,” he said. It was strange to be there. Mere twenty-four hours ago Dick hadn’t thought he shared much of anything with Ron Speirs, and definitely not the bed and the deepest desire of his heart. It was surreal enough to make his head spin to think how much had transpired between them within such a short period of time and in just one room. But then again, they were both creatures from the twilight zone. Perhaps it was only natural.

[swanqueeneverafter]

Sins of the Past Pt.16

Camelot. Dungeons. (Lancelot, Merida, Belle, Xena and Gabrielle continue to fight Morgana's guards alongside the now-freed knights of Camelot. While Xena kills the last guard, Guinevere arrives.) Lancelot: "Guinevere. What are you doing here?" Guinevere: "Morgana sent me… to talk to you, to make you see sense." Merida: "They've bewitched her!" Guinevere: "No, listen to me. I’m going to help you escape." Gabrielle: "I'd say you're a little late for that." Guinevere: "You may have escaped your cells, but only I know all of Camelot's secret passageways. Come on, it's this way." (Watching discreetly from the top of the winding staircase, Morgana and Morgause see and hear everything.) Morgana: "It is as we suspected. She’s betrayed me." Morgause: "I'm afraid so, my sister. But wait, this is still a good thing. Let her lead the rebels from the castle, it will give us just cause to execute them all."

Wonderland. (Will and Ella walk back towards the Underland, Will carrying the Forget-Me-Knot over his shoulder.) Ella: “The way you talked to that poor man, you were really getting through to him.” Will: “I'm a thief. Playing parts is what I do.” Ella: “I don't think you were playing a part. You were identifying with him.” Will: “Ah, bollocks.” Ella: “Is it? He was heartbroken, and you saw that.” Will: “Yeah, well I know what we won’t see, and that’s your mother through this thing. I’m sorry, Ella, but you’ve seen how this thing works now. We can’t just hold this thing up and walk over ever last millimeter of Wonderland in the hopes of seeing her.” Ella: (Nods:) “I know, you’re right. But what it can do is settle your debts with the Caterpillar, and that will mean that you can focus on helping me without looking over your shoulder all the time.” Will: (Looking at the sun setting on the horizon:) “Looks like we'll just make it.” Ella: “What are you waiting for? Time to clear your name.” Will: “I've been thinking.” Ella: “Oh, no.” Will: “And maybe you were right. Handing this thing back to the Caterpillar might be a truly horrible idea.” Ella: “What do you mean?” Will: “Well, he's not exactly Wonderland's chief humanitarian now, is he?” Ella: “No.” Will: “Chances are he'll use it for the same way he uses everything - to hurt people.” Ella: “But if you don't hand it over to him, you'll spend your remaining days as a desk ornament.” Will: (Shrugs this off:) “Pah.” Ella: “That thing is your key to freedom, for you to no longer be a hunted thief.” Will: “Actually, being a thief ain't up to anyone but me. If I give this to him, then I went to steal this thing for me, that makes me a thief. But if I don't give it to him, well, then I got it for you.” Ella: “And what does that make you then?” Will: “Hopefully someone with a shred of humanity left.” Ella: (Smiles:) “No ‘hopefully’ about it.” (Will holds up the knot, strikes a match from his pocket and sets light to the rope. The resulting smoke rises into the air and vanishes.) Camelot. Forest. (Pursued by Morgause and her men, the escapees run through the forest.) Belle: "They’re almost upon us!" Merida: "We need to get out of this valley!" Lancelot: "I can buy you all some time. You need to go. Run!" Guinevere: (Grabbing his arm:) "I won't leave you!" Lancelot: "Camelot needs you." Xena: "Camelot needs both of you. Gabrielle and I have got this. Go! We'll be right behind you." (Gabrielle and Xena stand back to back, taking on several soldiers before Xena is able to release her chakram.)

(The weapon arcs upward and across the valley, dislodging some large boulders to cause a rockfall, creating an impasse for the soldiers. Before Xena can catch the chakram however, she is knocked backwards by the force of Morgause’s magic. Inches from disaster, Gabrielle jumps and flips, catching the weapon in mid-air. Snarling up at the sorceress, Xena is ready for round two when Gabrielle grabs her.) Gabrielle: “Not now, let’s go!” (As they retreat, Morgause chants and blasts the rocks away, clearing the path for her soldiers. Arriving at the end of the valley, the escapees find Regina, Emma, Hook and Rumplestiltskin waiting for them beside the Sorcerer’s door. One by one, the knights, Lancelot and Guinevere and Merida run through the door to safety, Belle running into her husband’s arms.) Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, Belle, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Regina: (Seeing the soldiers running towards them:) “Not yet she isn’t. Go through the door. Now!” (Standing aside to let Xena and Gabrielle run through the door, Regina steps forward, sending fireballs at the soldiers, scattering them. Before Emma is able to use her own magic, she is knocked backwards by Morgause. Conjuring a fireball in each hand, Regina shoots them at Morgause who deflects them effortlessly.) Morgause: “Well if it isn’t the Evil Queen. Let’s see if you can live up to your reputation.” Regina: “Bring it, bitch.” (Both women send sparks of magic towards each other, neither managing to gain ground on the other. Finally getting to her feet, Emma joins the magical battle. The combined magic of the married couple blasts Morgause backwards. Taking their chance, Regina and Emma escape through the Sorcerer’s door. Helped to her feet by two soldiers, Morgause watches the door disappear, silently impressed by the combined force of the Savior and the Queen’s magic.)

Somewhere In Some Other Woods. (Walking through the forest together, Henry and Richard really are quite lost.) Henry: “Please stop talking.” Richard: “Well, no need to get snippy with me, you’re the one who didn’t think to bring a map. Wonderland can’t be too far away now. Do... oh, no.” Henry: “What ‘oh, no’?” Richard: (Looks around, turning in a circle:) “Oh...No.” Henry: “‘Oh, no,’ what?” Richard: “I think I may have led us into the Enchanted Forest, and that is not good. My father warned me to stay away from here at all costs. There's a queen... An evil queen... In fact, once my father and his best friend/camping buddy, Keith, who... I called him Uncle Keith 'cause he was always around...” Henry: “Spit it out!” Richard: “They wandered in here, and Uncle Keith was never heard from again.” Henry: “Oh, great. Oh, yeah. Mm-hmm, typical. God, can't anything go right?!” Richard: “You’re just gonna keep walking?” (They walk a short distance and come to a stop outside a moss covered building.) Henry: “Oh. (Reads the notice:) ‘Happy Hour’? (Sees the sign:) The Enchanted Forest is a pub. (Exhales sharply:) God, you actually had me scared for a minute there.” (Together, they enter the establishment.) Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Snow White, David, Grumpy and Happy stand opposite two of the knights who accosted the dwarves earlier.) Knight 1: "By order of her Majesty, Queen Morgana, I am here to arrest Emma Swan." Snow White: "Well, first of all, it's Swan-Mills. Secondly, she's not here, and third-" David: (Rolling up his sleeves:) "She's our daughter and you're going to have to go through me." Snow White: (Calmly:) "David, please, let's hear what they have to say. What is your name, Sir..." Knight 1: "My name is Sir Mordred. Your daughter is charged with the murder of Camelot's King. Be assured that even though Arthur was her brother, Morgana has insisted that there be a fair trial." David: "Oh yes, because Camelot has a history of fair and just rulers." Mordred: (Ignoring this, to Snow:) "Where is your daughter now?" Snow White: "On vacation, with her wife and daughter. We're not exactly sure where they went. (Looking to her husband:) David, did they mention where... (David innocently shakes his head. Shrugs, to Mordred:) Daughters. You know how secretive they can be." Mordred: (With a curt smile:) "Indeed." Robin Hood: (Entering:) "I may be able to shed some light on their whereabouts. (Nods to Snow and David. To Mordred:) They're currently outside laying waste to your two colleagues. Lancelot and Guinevere are with them, so if you're feeling lucky, you and your little friend here, (Looks the other knight up and down:) could nab yourself all of Camelot's enemies in one fell swoop."

Mordred: (With another insincere smile:) "Make no mistake, we shall be back with reinforcements and next time, I will have your daughter." David: "Over my dead body." Snow White: "And mine." Regina: (Entering, her eyes full of rage:) "And mine! You tell your Queen and her lapdog that there's no way in hell I am letting either of them anywhere near my wife!" Mordred: (Infuriatingly calm:) "We shall see." (Conjuring a fireball into her hand, Regina is about to hurl it at Mordred when he vanishes. Realising that he is now along amongst very unfriendly faces, the remaining knight runs quickly towards the door and out of sight.) David: (Grabbing his jacket:) "I'll get him. Robin, let's go." Outside Town Hall. (While Lancelot and his men restrain the other two knights, Emma turns at the sound of running footsteps. After almost getting knocked down by the remaining knight, Emma is spun around again, this time by her father.) Emma: "Dad, what the hell?" David: "No time to talk now, (Tossing the keys of his truck to Robin:) we've got this!" (Before she can say anything, Emma watches as David and Robin Hood pile into David's truck and speed away in pursuit of the last knight.) Camelot. Chapel. (Morgause meets with Morgana to relay the news.) Morgause: “They were lucky to escape. I’m sorry, Sister.” Morgana: “What can they do? Guinevere and Lancelot have but a handful of men. We have Bayard’s soldiers and Camelot’s army at our disposal.” Morgause: “Yes, but whist Guinevere lives, the people will not yield.” Morgana: “Then we will make them. Let it be known that Guinevere freed Camelot’s enemies and betrayed m- (Corrects herself:) us all. Tonight we will have a gallows built, and tomorrow, one by one, we will put an end to the knights of Camelot.”

Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (Regina and Emma sit alone with Maria sleeping beside them.) Emma: "You know, they're not wrong. I did kill Arthur." Regina: "You were protecting yourself from a madman who had threatened your family if you didn't surrender to his will." Emma: "I still had a choice. I chose to kill him. You saw what happened when I did, I was fully embraced by the Darkness after that." Regina: "Which means you've already been punished. And redeemed for that matter. If it wasn't for you, there would still be a Dark One. Never mind the fact that the Darkness was created in Camelot in the first place. Not that you'll ever hear them admit that of course." Emma: "I don't think it was technically created there, but you can work out the finer details and be ready to defend me by the time my trial starts." (Realising Emma is trying to lighten the mood, Regina takes a deep, calming breath.) Regina: "Morgana doesn't care about Arthur's death. How could she when it was her brother who poisoned her all those years ago? Morgana just ousted a beloved Queen and needs to change the conversation. The people of Camelot don't know her, so Morgana has to show that she can be a tough but fair ruler. This whole idea of a trial is nothing but political theatre." Emma: "Kind of like when you had Leopold killed and blamed Snow for his murder?" Regina: "Exactly. (Thinks a moment:) God knows why your mother still speaks to me after all I've done to her. (Tilts her head:) But then again, after five minutes of talking with her, I'm not so sure the silent treatment would be such a bad thing." Emma: (Smiling:) "Please try not to turn our daughter against her grandmother. We’re going to need as many babysitters as we can get." (They both stop and take a moment to look at the slumbering child between them.) Regina: "All I'm saying, is that you can't let this bother you. We both know how you can get when you're feeling angry or persecuted." Emma: "Oh that is not fair. That hasn't happened since... well it's been a long time." Storybrooke. Past. Main Street. (Walking together after a rough magic lesson, Regina and Emma talk over Emma's issues.) Emma: "It's like I just can't seem to control it." Regina: "That's because your magic isn't born from anger or hatred. Your magic comes from love, from the desire to protect those around you. When the Snow Queen pushed your buttons and made you angry, your powers surged out of you in a way that you'd never experienced before." Emma: "Gold always said magic is about emotion." Regina: "And he's right. Emma, before I met you, I thought that any magic or power that I had came from darkness. You showed me that there was another way." Emma: (Nods:) "When you defeated Zelena. Hasn't your magic ever faltered?" Regina: (Shrugs:) "When Gold first brought it to Storybrooke, it took a little while for my magic to come back. But I have both light and dark magic, so if one fails-" Emma: "The other takes over. So shouldn't I try and... I don't know, tap into my dark magic. As a backup?" (They walk in silence for a few paces as Regina considers her answer.) Regina: "The thing is, Emma, the strength of your Savior magic is so powerful that it dwarfs my dark magic. If we were to attempt to access your darker side, I'd be concerned about possibly diluting the purity of your light magic." Emma: (Smiles at this:) "Oh I think we both know I'm not that pure." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Well, this is true. In certain instances you've proven to be downright devillish." Emma: "I've obviously had the perfect teacher." Regina: (Smiles:) "You've plenty more to learn and I'm more than eager to teach you." Emma: "Sounds intense." Regina: "It can be." Emma: "Promise?" (With a wave of Regina's hand, both women disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Mayor’s Mansion. (Re-appearing outside the front door to the mansion, Emma's lips are upon Regina's before the brunette can even find her keys. Noticing Regina's struggle, Emma waves her own hand and they re-appear at the top of the stairs, each woman now pulling at the other's clothes. As the intensity of their kissing increases, Regina finds herself being guided towards the window seat. Letting out a moan when Emma straddles her lap, Regina grips the blonde woman's hips, grinding her down against her thigh. Letting out her own moan, Emma latches onto Regina's neck, breathing heavily into her ear.) Emma: "Enough foreplay." Regina: "I couldn't agree more." (With a final wave of her hand, Regina transports them to the bedroom, her bra somehow landing on the door handle in mid-flight. As Emma shimmies out of her jeans, Regina puts a knee up on the chest at the bottom of the bed and, growling, begins to crawl on all fours before lowering herself into the arms of her favourite student.) Storybrooke. Present. (On the run, the remaining knight, Grif, rides off on his horse, with David driving his truck in pursuit. Robin Hood rides shotgun.) David: "Hold on!" Grif: (In the distance:) "Hyah! Hyah!" David: (To Robin:) "Take over! Speed is feet, direction is hand. (David climbs into the back of the truck while Robin Hood takes the wheel. Grif pulls his horse off-road. Banging the truck’s roof:) Circle around!” (David picks up a wooden plank from the truck bed and uses it as a joust to knock Grif off the horse.) Wonderland. The Underland. (The Caterpillar stares closely at the hourglass on his desk.) Caterpillar: “Mmm. Not much time left, Knave. (Suddenly the music stops playing and everyone turns towards the entrance:) Well, speak of the devil.” (The crowds part, revealing...) Morgause: “Expecting someone else?” Caterpillar: “Yes.” Morgause: “Pity. Now, I want you to tell me everything you know about Emma and Regina. Everything.”

[s-aned]

Dark Paradise - Chapter 2 - Escape or die

Warning: some rude language here, can be uncomfortable to read.

Chapter 1

The man stops to wipe his sweaty forehead. The air runs out on this hot summer day. Not the slightest breeze blows in this undergrowth they have been roaming for hours. His brother catches up with him, patting him patronizingly on the shoulder.

“Slowing down old man?

-I’m not old, I’m just hot. Hey, stop laughing little brother, you’ll soon understand my pain.

-By then you will be getting older again, so I will always be more dashing than you.

-Ssh

-What, it’s the truth!

-No, look up there.”

The elder cocks his rifle, ready to fire. To his right, a man is slumped against a tree, his throat pierced by a knife. They continue to advance, discovering a car and four more bodies spread out over a few dozen meters. All shot down. All armed.

“Jesus, what happened there.

- I don’t care. Fucking hunters.”

The younger doesn’t have the time to make an ironic comment on his brother's words, as screams are heard. He nods to his elder. They have to take a look. Joel sighs. Why Tommy always wants to help those who pass by? Yet he follows him. His place, his rules.

The screams have stopped, but they know they’re getting closer. As they approach a clearing, they take cover to assess the unexpected situation that unfolds there. In front of them, a woman is lying, a man trapping her between his legs, his hand keeping a knife stuck in her lower abdomen. All they can hear is her moans of pain and the man's deep, threatening voice.

She clenches her teeth. The knife tears her flesh, and she tries to move as little as possible. She knows that the moment this dog takes it away, she’ll be bleeding dangerously. He might kill her. But not without using her first. He makes it clear with his flood of obscene words. Nothing she hasn’t heard a hundred, maybe a thousand, times before. Men are incredibly commonplace when it comes to talking to women like her. She holds his gaze. She must show him that she’s not afraid. What he wants to do to her is nothing she hasn't known before.

Suddenly a thud, creaking bones and the man collapsing with all his weight on top of her, driving the blade deeper into her. She ignores the hot liquid now flowing over her and turns her head. A few meters away are two men.

The older one approaches, pushing her assailant out of her body with his foot, but keeping his aim on her. She puts her hands up and a laugh escapes her throat. How lucky. She barely got rid of these men that she’s already at the mercy of others.

“Who the fuck are you?”

His deep voice makes her tremble. She quickly regains her composure, ignoring the throbbing pain that twists her stomach. She sighs before speaking in a detached voice.

“Does it matter for what you have to do?”

The two men exchange a look of incomprehension. They were used to infected, to hunters who looked a little too closely at Jackson. They would occasionally help lost travelers. But this situation was unprecedented to them.

“Did you shoot all these men back there?”

This time it was the younger one who had spoken, his gun already slightly lowered. She doesn't answer, too absorbed by the other's gaze on her body. He frowns. He has just realized that the young woman at the end of his gun wears no shoes or pants. Her legs show signs of recent and older scars. He tries to understand.

“Where were you going like that?

-No idea. I clearly wasn’t there for strategic guidance.”

They keep asking her questions, but all she can think of is the number of men waiting for these two, and the thrill of joy that would run through them all when they’ll see them bring her back. God knows since when they haven't seen a woman.

Shit, this will never stop. Just open your pants already, so we get rid of it.

The blonde man walks over to her.

“You’re not armed, I guess?

-Except for the knife in my stomach you mean?

-I’m going to take it off. My brother is kinda quick with the trigger, so don’t try anything stupid ok?”

She bits her lower lips and turns her head away. She moans as the blade slowly comes out. Tears begin to bead down her cheeks as she feels herself leaving, the man's hands resting firmly on her wound to stop the blood flowing. She’s about to pass out, maybe about to lose her life. At the thought, a slight smile appears on her lips. Thank you.

--------------------

Her eyelids open slowly, trying to get used to the light bathing the room. She sits up suddenly, realizing she doesn't know the place. But the gesture makes her cry out in pain and she falls back with all her weight on the cold examination table. Shit, I’m not dead.

“Hey slow down.” A blonde woman walks up to her, resting her hand on her shoulder. She looks reassuring, but it has been a long time since the young woman learned not to trust appearances.

“I’m Maria, I’m in charge here. You lost quite a lot of blood, but you’re safe now. Just lay back and rest. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

She would like to protest, to say something, but her body is exhausted. She falls into darkness.

--------

When she wakes up, the blonde is still there. She looked after me all this time?

Maria approaches and gives her a glass of water, before asking some questions about her condition. Someone knocks on the door before entering. It’s the two men who found her.  

“You’ve met Tommy and Joel.”

The injured woman gives them a slight nod. Her body tensed when they arrived. Is now the time? They fixed her up and now they come to get their due? Ignoring the young woman's discomfort, Maria continues.

“So, can you tell us more about you? They told me you killed some men out there. Who were they?”

The young woman doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze still blocked in the direction of the two men.

“They can get out if you want.

-No, they’ve seen most of it anyway.”

She takes a deep breath and starts.

“I don’t know who they are, or where they came from. They came to my QZ to make some trade and they bought me.

-Why would they buy you?

-Don’t play the innocent. To be a cum dump. My old owners probably thought I wasn’t fresh enough anymore for their customers and found some suckers to buy me.”

They stay looking at her, dumbfounded. Maybe they’re different after all. Maybe they didn't bring her back to treat her the same as everyone else did. She looks away. She must not delude herself, she must not hope for a different future. The older man is the first to speak.

“How did you manage to get rid of all these men?

-The leader of the troop. He didn't want to wait any longer, he wanted to test the new toy. So he took me aside to do his little business. But the idiot had left his knife within reach. So I tried my luck and I won. I stole his gun and walked away. I was hoping I could get away before the others noticed, but they were too quick. So I fired. I had almost all of them. I was almost out of there when this pig managed to grab me and stabbed me with his knife. And then you arrived”

She falls silent and lies down completely, fixing her gaze on the ceiling. She doesn't want to talk anymore. For what it will change. She knows very well what's going to happen, it's always the same story. They will throw her away or use her. Probably even both. So what’s the point of pouring out. She feels tired, but she can't give up now. Her body must resist. Maria ends up breaking the silence.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here. We’ll find you a place to stay and some occupation. But we’ll never treat you like those men. You’re safe here. So now you need to rest and regain strength.”

With a nod, she invites the two men to leave the room. She really seems to be in charge. You’re safe here. She heard that before. In his mouth. His stupid and beautiful mouth. And time proved him wrong. It wasn’t his fault, she guesses. No one is really safe in this world.

----

Sitting on the bed, she observes the surroundings. Her own room, what a weird feeling. She never had one, other than the one when she was a baby, of course, before the pandemic. In the QZ, she shared the night alcove with her mother. Sometimes she would sleep on the sofa. But it was not the same.

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to store all the information. Maria had returned to pick her up, providing her with a new outfit. She assured her that as soon as she’s better, they would go and find her more clothes to her liking. The two women had walked to Maria and Tommy’s house, not far from the infirmary. It had given her a glimpse of the city from afar. It seemed animated. But in a different way than the QZ. No soldiers, no cold concrete walls. Only wood, people chatting and children playing innocently. Is it possible that such a place still exists?

The older woman promises to pay her a full visit in the days to come. She enumerates the different occupations of the city. The farm, the shops, the patrols. The newcomer tries to remember everything, but her brain is too exhausted for that. It’s been too long since anyone made her the conversation.

The fatigue must have been visible on her face, for she had no trouble convincing her hosts to let her up to bed, just minutes after arriving home. From the entrance she could smell the food being prepared, and it already made her heart beat. She knew she couldn't avoid this sensitive subject for long. But at least for tonight she was out of trouble.

Without making a sound, she gets up and opens the cupboards. In the first is a large safe. To store weapons, probably. In the next one, she spots a box. After a brief hesitation, she lifts the lid. She finds some stuffed animals and baby bodysuits. Yet she did not see any trace of children. Maybe they are already old? But why keep this then? Maria doesn't seem the kind of woman to keep what she doesn't need. She closes the box before lying down. It is none of her business after all.

Her body is exhausted, but her brain refuses to give her that peace. She knows that as soon as she closed her eyes, her sleep would be filled with nightmares.